


The Demons We Hide

by btwrites_ow



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Demon Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, F/F, Light-Hearted, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smoking, Violence, alternate title - rarepair hell, basically it's "what if jesse mccree was a real shitty demon hunter" au, it's not as creepy as it sounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btwrites_ow/pseuds/btwrites_ow
Summary: Jesse McCree is a demon hunter, and a damn good one, at that. He travels the United States with his best friend and medic, Doctor Angela Ziegler, seeking out the next hunt in an era where demons aren't nearly as prevalent as they used to be, but are still a very real and dangerous threat. When he takes an unremarkable venture in an abandoned church, he does the last thing he ever thought he'd do -- have a conversation with one of hell's own.A.K.A., Jesse finds out he's actually really bad at his job once he realizes hellspawn have feelings, too.





	1. Strange Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> i'm terrible at summaries
> 
>  
> 
> all right so this is the most niche thing i could imagine, so i decided to slap it down and post it here. if you wanna talk to me about/get updates on this story, request something from me, or just chat, i'm most active over on tumblr: http://btwrites-overwatch.tumblr.com/
> 
> thanks for reading and remember that I Appreciate You

The old church was littered with cobwebs, cigarette butts, and the energy of the damned. The air was gravid, the feeling of being watched so tangible it could be cut with a knife. The scent of dust and decaying wood gave the impression no one had stepped foot in the building for at least half a century, but that was disproved by the eerie, faded graffiti scrawled on the walls and the trash tossed on the floor. The pews were broken or breaking, the altar, dilapidated beyond repair. Tapestries, displaying images of the Holy Mother and Jesus -- once so beautiful -- were torn to shreds and moth-eaten, barely clinging to the dark walls. Glass from broken windows lay glistening across the floorboards.

Jesse wasn't impressed.

It wasn't uncommon for demons to pick abandoned churches for their nests. They liked the irony of it. A once-holy place, now crawling with the fallen -- it really tickled them. Jesse couldn't say he disliked their sense of humor, but he wasn't there to laugh alongside them.

He opened his book, its yellowed pages and musty scent calming in the thick, chilly atmosphere, and took a seat on one of the pews that could still support his weight (or so he hoped). He skimmed the pages.

For now, he was observing.

It didn't take long for the air to get thicker, to begin encroaching on the lone demon hunter sitting in the empty church's only intact pew. Jesse continued flipping pages, remaining calm inside and out. Demons sensed fear, thrived off it -- it strengthened them. He wouldn't give these that power.

Reports claimed two demons lived in the tiny church. They were both described as being over six feet tall, humanoid, and intelligent. One was skinny and winged, with a haunting laugh that caused insomnia and hallucinations in those who heard it. The other was dead silent, a hulking, bleeding beast sewn together by a careless needle, adorning a cruel pig's face and pitch black eyes. That one was said to bring intense paranoia and homicidal thoughts.

Once more, Jesse wasn't impressed. These seemed to be middle-tier hellspawn -- though, according to two of the four reports, the winged one was a simple imp. Whatever. He'd see for himself in about -- ah. Three...

A presence centered in front of him, at the altar, manifesting behind the fallen structure. Jesse's eyes slid upward, unperturbed, then flitted back down.

Two...

Dark shadows gathered, hunched, behind the altar. A figure crawled out, scrabbling on all fours, its attention honing in on the hunter. A slow hiss released from its mass -- and the hiss became a breathy giggle, not meant for Jesse's ears to detect. But he'd trained his hearing to be his sharpest sense, so he didn't miss a beat. He smirked.

One...

The force rushed at him, bringing an intense heat meant to knock the breath from him.  _Not very creative, are ya, fella?_  he thought, glancing up. From the blackness, the demon crawled, a hellish insect with a shrill, eardrum-piercing laugh and flashing teeth. Skin turned red by hellfire and burning yellow eyes, bat-like wings sprouting from the nothingness and fanning forward to encompass Jesse -- it came at him all at once, but he didn't flinch, didn't break eye contact -- and sure as hell didn't keep his face straight.

He laughed, just as the demon had, right into its face. He laughed and laughed, slapped his knee, pointed at the entity mockingly. He even poked its nose.

The demon -- no,  _imp_ ; a demon would've gone in for an attack already -- lowered its wings, expression confused. It was presumably male, with an angular chin dotted with stubble, prominent cheekbones, and a freckled, pointed nose. It had wavy, blonde, mildly burnt hair, and backwards-curving horns the color of coal. Jesse found it somewhat cute, in its own devilish way -- but he'd never say that. Not even if his life depended on it.

Once he'd finished laughing (which took him nearly thirty seconds), he continued to smile, and simply said, "Howdy."

The entity was still confused. It was so confused, in fact, that it answered Jesse with a question. Two, actually.

"What kinda nitwit are you? Aren't ya  _scared_?"

Its voice was incredulous, loud, and...Australian?  _Hellspawn_ _can have accents?_  Jesse asked himself, wondering how he'd never noticed before.  _'_ _Course, never really_  spoke  _to any. Huh. Maybe I should start doin' that more often._

"No," Jesse retorted, leaning forward on his leg. "Say, ain't you s'posed to be a demon? I didn't come here for imps."  _Honestly, it's kinda sad how..._ ineffective  _this fella is. I feel a little bad. Do I really gotta terminate 'im? Seems like an unfair fight._

_Can't forget the big one, though._

A scowl curled the creature's lips. Jesse thought it was funny -- a few simple words could get one of Satan's spawn so riled up in a matter of seconds! Though, it was no secret that imps hated when people pointed out the fact they were imps. It was the equivalent of being constantly made fun of for getting demoted in the job you really loved.

Quite unfortunate for the imp, but very funny to the hunter.

"Y'know how many ways I could kill ya, mate? With just me bare hands!" it hissed, rising up to its full height. And, continuing with the theme, Jesse wasn't impressed.

Poor thing. Everything about it was disappointing.

"Do it, then." Jesse tapped lightly on his book. "Wanna see ya try, imp."

The imp looked absolutely incensed, but stopped cold as it caught sight of the book in Jesse's lap. Its eyes widened with fear and it scuttled away, wings flapping erratically. "G-get that away from me!"

Jesse glanced down at the symbols on the worn pages, playing coy. "Oh, this ol' thing? What's so bad about it?"

"Patronizin' bastard," the hellspawn spat, "you know damn well." It was on all fours on the floor, back arched like a cat, allowing Jesse to get a full-body view of it. Its legs were bent too unnaturally to pass as human, with bird-like talons at the ends that left deep scores in the hardwood. It had a tail that resembled a lion's, though it was longer and thinner, just like the rest of its body. It even had the decency to wear clothes -- well, shorts. Maybe it was too hot inside the church for full attire.

Jesse nodded slowly, pretending to consider what the creature said. "Huh. So you admit to bein' thwarted by a lil' ol' book." Honestly, he couldn't tell why he was toying with the poor creature. He was always one for taunting, but this -- it was kind of pitiful.  _Gotta do somethin' to pass the time 'til the real demon shows up, right?_  he thought, but still decided it'd be best if he stopped.

"Shove it." The imp permitted itself to stand again, staring distrustfully at the book Jesse held. Then, its gaze met Jesse's again, boiling with fury and something intelligible. "Who are you? Some kinda 'demon hunter'?"

McCree's eyebrows raised, smile never falling. "Yeah, actually. How'd ya know?"

The thing growled again, a high-pitched gravel in its throat. "Lucky guess."

Jesse leaned back in the pew, but stopped once he heard an unpromising creak. He fumbled to sit back up. "So," he began, regaining any lost composure and glancing around the church, "you havin' fun terrorizin' teenagers?"

The imp folded its arms begrudgingly, but still answered Jesse in a, dare he say,  _conversational_  tone. "Yeah. They've never had a church service like ours before." Its lip twitched, just barely managing to suppress a smirk.

Jesse gave an amused snort. "Well, y'know y'all can't be doin' that, now. Had to know a hunter would come around sooner or later, right?"

The hellspawn shrugged. "Fun while it lasted." Its tail twitched as it stared at the book still seated in McCree's lap, as if it were leery of him suddenly getting the urge to throw it.

"I'm s'posed to terminate you both, you know that?" he asked, watching every move the imp made.

It sniffed, grumbling, "Yeah. I'd prefer if ya didn't."

"Ain't you a funny one." Jesse got back to his feet, dusting off his embroidered, black trenchcoat dismissively. He sighed. "Accordin' to the job, I'm s'posed to terminate any hellspawn I see, whether I been hired to or not. In your case, I was hired -- but I came for  _two_  demons, not one demon and an --"

Its eyes narrowed.

"Uh. One of you." He shifted. "Your friend anything like you?"  _None of the reports described it like an imp, 'n' its effects are more powerful than just trauma, but I can't be too sure anymore. Damn people can't tell their ass from a hole in the ground._

Suddenly, the imp's thin lips broke into a fang-filled, foreboding grin. "I'm glad ya asked, hunter! Ya can see for yourself!"

Cold. Right behind him. Shocking to the touch, having been so used to the imp's heat. Frigid.

The demon hunter sucked in a breath, caught off-guard, and, much to his own disdain, felt a twinge of fear in his gut. He looked over his shoulder, smile falling as he was greeted by a huge, bloody stomach, marred by lacerations loosely sewn together and inflamed, reddened tattoos. He lifted his gaze, wincing, and made contact with lifeless, black lenses, seated behind a short pig's snout.

"Now  _that_ ," he muttered, blinking, "is a demon."

"Too right!" the imp cackled, crawling onto the altar, tail lashing excitedly. "Mako! We got a hunter called on us!"

The demon was silent, just as the reports claimed. It continued staring at Jesse.

"We must be doin' somethin' right," its friend continued. "Someone wants us dead, 'n' that means we're effective! I'm gonna be a demon again in no time!"

Once more, the demon -- Mako -- said nothing. Jesse tried to ignore the creeping eerieness crawling down his back.

The imp vanished and appeared beside the demon, putting its hands on the huge beast's shoulder and arm. "I gotta tell ya, though, mate, I don't think ya wanna fight this one. He's got a gun." Its voice was a whisper, but, once again, it failed to realize Jesse had better hearing than the average person. Not to mention the fact it was terrible at keeping quiet.

Mako only breathed heavily, its wheezing breaths blanketing the church in a wintry freeze. McCree crossed his arms, a subtle attempt at keeping warm. "You mean to tell me you've met hunters without guns?" he asked, deciding to take up the slack the demon left.

The imp squinted at him. "I wasn't tellin'  _you_." Despite this, it still considered his question, touching its chin. After a moment, it simply said, "Actually, I've never met a hunter before," and shrugged.

Jesse nodded. Made sense. "Well, I gotta say, not many hunters're as friendly as me. Consider yourselves lucky." He pulled a box of cigars from his pocket, taking one and lighting it. The hellspawn watched him intensely. Once he'd taken his puff, quenching his craving, he met their gazes. "What?"

"What's that?" the imp blurted, eyes flicking upward to watch the smoke.

Jesse gave a chuckle. An imp's curiosity was unsurpassed, on the mortal plane and the spiritual one. It was part of what made them so annoying, but McCree found them entertaining -- especially this one. "Called a cigar. Really shouldn't be smokin' it, but, y'know. Quittin's easier said than done." He took it from his mouth and studied it as he spoke.

He noticed the imp's eyes following the cigar's movements, tracking it as if in a trance. Smiling, he began waving it around, watching the bright yellow gaze never once leaving the hot, ashy cigar end. He snorted. "You never seen one of these before? They been around for centuries."

"I like it." The imp scuttled forward, talons tapping the floor as it went. The demon groaned, annoyed, as its smaller companion stood in front of the demon hunter, mesmerized by his magical, glowing firestick.

Jesse was having a pretty great time teasing the imp, admittedly. He was having more fun than he would've if he decided to banish it right off the bat, and he couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

Suddenly the thing's hands darted forward, taking the cigar from Jesse's fingers and stuffing it into its mouth. McCree raised an eyebrow, mouth agape, as the hellspawn chewed the fat stick of tobacco and fire, then swallowed.

"I've had better," it decided aloud, glancing back at the demon. Then it turned to Jesse again, grinning vilely. "Guess I really  _smoked_  that fancy durry of yours, hehe."

McCree was...conflicted. He wanted to be mad, felt as if he should be, but honestly? It was fucking funny. Also infuriating.

"Those are expensive, asshole!" he cried, but his voice broke with a laugh. He shoved the thing's shoulder, temporarily forgetting what it was, and shook his head. "You owe me now, imp."

The imp, apparently, didn't understand what was so funny. It cocked its head, a confused look on its face. "Haven't got a notion what your deal is, hunter, but you're right weird."

Once he was done having his hoot, McCree took another cigar and lit it, but kept this one in his mouth. "I like you. Tell ya what," he said, crossing his arms. "I won't terminate neither of ya, but ya can't live here anymore. Someone's bought the property this place is on, wants to do somethin' with it -- but can't with a bunch of demons infestin' the place. So you get goin', 'n' I'll forget I ever saw ya. Deal?"

The imp still watched the burning end of Jesse's cigar, and, for a moment, looked as if it were about to pounce. Instead, it made sudden, intense eye contact, searing right through the gunslinger's skull. "Oh, okay. I know just the place."

"Well, er, that -- that's good." Jesse's face flushed. He was caught off-guard; not even people could make direct eye contact with him half the time, much less hellspawn -- yet this one was right in his face, staring at him so hard it made him shrink in his clothes. He'd never met such a powerful gaze.

Suddenly, it was very, quite  _uncomfortably_  hot under the thick trenchcoat.

The imp backed off, a smile tugging its lips. "Think we struck the deal of an eternity, Mako. Let's roll." It motioned with a clawed hand, diving, with a giggle, into the floor as fluidly as a jungle cat. The demon kneeled into the puddles of its own intangible blood, reached down into the floorboards, and was suddenly gone, as was the frostiness surrounding it.

Jesse stopped standing so rigidly, not even having realized he was doing it. He tapped the book he held, then Peacekeeper's holster, disbelieving that he'd gotten away without having to use either even once.

In fact, he couldn't believe much of what had happened. He had a full-blown, amicable conversation with a hellspawn (though it'd only been an imp), and managed to persuade it and its demon friend to just...go away. Poof. Just like that. It was so easy!

He was suspicious.

The church's doors busted open, the dawn's light flooding into the service room. Outlined by the light of day was a woman, her white jacket pearly and angelic in the milky sun.

"Jesse!" she exclaimed, anger and relief thick in her voice. "You said you would be out by three a.m.!"

McCree gave a dazed chortle, though he wasn't exactly amused, and sauntered up to her. "Well, doc, that was the plan. But you gotta know by now that, in this business, nothin' barely ever goes as planned." He sighed and straightened his hat, wondering why that statement had rung so true in the last couple hours.

"You had me worried." Angela walked a quick circle around him, checking him for any wounds. "You're unscathed, I didn't even hear a fight... What did you do in there for so long?"

Jesse clipped the pagan ritual book to his side, in its own holster opposite of Peacekeeper's. "It's, uh, it's a long story. I'll tell ya later."

She narrowed her eyes, rock-hard gaze as tough as diamonds. "Well, it's a good thing I already booked us two hotel rooms. I assumed you would want your own." She tugged his collar as she started out the church, back toward Jesse's truck. "I'll get you back there for some rest. You can tell me what happened when you wake up."

Jesse followed her, once more reminded of how grateful he was for her company. Having a best friend that supported your career choices really helped the ol' headcase, but it was even better when she was a trained, professional field medic (and doctor) that could patch you up after a tough fight. Despite her callousness, she could always raise his spirits.

Or should he say  _demons_?


	2. New Education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse learns that he's not the only "person" that can't follow rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's ya boy bt back at it again at krispy kreme (ao3). thank you to anyone leaving kudos/comments on here or likes/reblogs on tumblr! I Appreciate Y'all. chapter two is focusing a bit more on angela and jesse's friendship, but we should be seeing more of our favorite junker demons next time around. stay tuned n thanks for reading!

"And then -- and then it told me, i-it had better!" Jesse bellowed, belching up bourbon. "I tell ya, Angie, that thing was nuts. I wonder if all hellspawn're like that." He knocked back another shot of the strong liquid, feeling his nose burn blissfully as he breathed out. As his mentor, Ana Amari, used to say -- "You can't appreciate a stiff drink until you taste the sharpie in it through your nose."

Angela shushed him, putting a finger to her lips. "Quiet down, Jesse. Not everyone here should know about your, ah,  _experience_." She lightly touched her own drink, a weak gin cocktail, but didn't take a sip. She wasn't big on drinking, considered it gut-rotting and stupid-inducing, but still sometimes (in moderation) partook in it with Jesse -- so long as he didn't get too drunk, of course.

It seemed, though, that he was starting to grate on her nerves. The alcohol had begun making his voice loud and chest warm, his head fuzzy and vision the tiniest bit blurred. The good doctor was obviously disgruntled.

"You ever --" he hiccuped, "-- ever talked to a hellspawn before?" He glanced over at her, her platinum blonde hair in a sloppy ponytail and dark bags under her dull, blue eyes. Both she and Jesse never got the chance to get accustomed to a sleeping schedule, and sucked down coffee like it was going out of style. McCree often felt bad for her -- he always told her she could go home any time she wanted, that she didn't have to put herself through this for him, but she would always wave him off and tell him she was happy where she was.

At some point, Angela had answered his question, but he was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't hear it. He reached over to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "I love you, doc. I couldn't ask...couldn't ask for a better friend." He leaned on her without meaning to, nearly pushing her off her stool.

"I love you, too, Jesse, but you're drunk. We must get back to the hotel." She patted his arm a couple times, hesitant to show affection in front of all the prying eyes, then got up from her stool, offering a hand. He took it, clumsily sliding off the barstool.

Angela grabbed her purse and withdrew her wallet, thumbing through that day's earnings to pay for their drinks. Jesse let his gaze flit around the bar, listening for something interesting -- though only diluted country music filled his ears. It was too early in the evening for people to be drinking for fun, so only sad, middle-aged men and women sat in the sunset-strewn seats, sipping away their sorrows. The place itself was nice, smelling of fruity cocktails and cinnamon whiskey, with fake cow skulls on the walls and dream catchers attached to the booths. Jesse would bet those booths were comfy...

Angela tapped his shoulder, looking up expectantly at him. "Come on,  _mein_ _betrunkener_ _freund_. Let's turn in for the night." She beckoned him to follow as she headed to the door, pushing her wallet back into her purse.

Jesse glanced back at the bartender to tip his hat farewell and in thanks. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement at a previously unoccupied booth -- but when he looked, nothing was there. Only an empty, red seat and a clean table, nestled in orange strips of sun.

_Damn shadow people._

**×××**

Jesse didn't sleep much that night, but, of course, that was largely due to having slept most of the day before. There was also the chilling feeling of being watched from the shrouded recesses of the room, but that was just part of the job. Nothing unusual.

At about midnight, he passed out again, boredom and willpower finally triumphing over his restlessness. As per usual, his sleep was void, with nothing except a sprawling emptiness filling his head. He didn't often dream, and that night wasn't any different.

The next morning, however, was another experience entirely.

He woke up early, at, eh, somewhere close to 3:30. His first instinct was to get some coffee.

He took his time in sitting up, rubbing his eyes, pushing his hair from his face. For a split second, he wondered if he should put it up in a ponytail -- but that thought was cut short by clicking nails on the bathroom floor.

Jesse's first thought was maybe a dog had gotten in somehow, or a raccoon. He wouldn't doubt it. The hotel wasn't  _dumpy_ , per se, but it wasn't exactly high-class, either.

His next thought was that he was on the fourth floor. How could a dog or raccoon get in?

_Maybe it's a bird...?_ he wondered, though he had no clue how it could've found a way in his hotel room, let alone the bathroom.  _Just gonna have to look, I guess._

In his line of work, it wasn't unheard of to be followed around by demons and other vengeful spirits. It was fairly uncommon (because, unlike this particular demon hunter, most dispatched any and all quarries), but McCree certainly couldn't rule out the possibility. So, he picked up his gun, muttered a quick blessing over himself, and slinked to the bathroom, not really expecting much, but still wary.

He slowly pushed open the door, finding the light to be on inside. The door opened to face the wall to protect privacy -- though, in that moment, it only ramped up Jesse's anxiety.

He scowled; what kind of a wuss did he take himself for? He just needed to go in and face down whatever was inside.

Thus, he did, pulling up his revolver in the process.

"Oi! Knock first, will ya?" A hellspawn, no,  _the_  hellspawn -- yes, that godforsaken imp -- scrambled to pull a towel up over itself, its body and wings dripping water all over the white tiles.

Jesse stood, squinting, in the doorway, mouth agape, shirtless, and absolutely dumbfounded. A few silent moments passed between them, the cowboy struck dumb and the imp having the gumption to look offended.

Finally, the hellspawn said, "Well, that was right rude of ya." It made a shooing motion with its free hand. "Go on. Sod off."

Jesse managed to find his voice, rusted with sleep and somewhat dazed. "Wh -- how? Where did you -- where did ya come from?"

The imp glanced behind it. "Shower, it looks like." It gained a shit-eating grin as it looked back to Jesse. "Thought I'd make a good  _second impression_. Even if your shower ain't too sturdy." It glanced down, eyes flitting over Jesse's body, but said nothing. He wondered if it thought he wouldn't notice.

No matter. How did this bumbling imp manage to attach itself to him? Without him noticing? Was he losing his edge? Gods, he hoped not -- he didn't have  _nearly_  enough saved for retirement!

"How'd ya do it?" he repeated, his mind's gears turning at an infuriatingly slow rate.

"Well, like you would, o'course. Turned on the water, got ass-naked --"

"No," Jesse snapped, "not that. How'd ya manage to...to..."

"We don't have all day, cowpoke." The imp leaned over the counter and studied itself in the mirror, tail swaying contemptuously. "Think I lost some of me charm without the soot. Don't ya agree?"

Jesse ignored it. "Dammit, how'd ya connect to me? I didn't even sense ya."

The imp turned back around, leaning backwards on the counter. Once again, Jesse saw it was awfully skinny, with an exposed ribcage and prominent hipbones. Though, in a way, it was...kind of attractive. Its lack of fat put an emphasis on every one of its muscles, from its chest all the way down its abdomen, even further down where the trail of blond hair led and Jesse couldn't see --

He watched the water drip.

"I dunno what ya want me to tell ya, mate. I just...followed ya. Latched onto your shadow 'n' took it for a ride." It shrugged. "Was there a special ritual I was s'posed to do? Seems it would defeat the purpose, considerin' you'd  _sense_  me...weird."

"Uh-huh." Jesse shut his eyes momentarily, grimacing, and forced himself to think hard.  _N_ _ever dealt with this before. Demons don't just_  follow  _people -- it ain't what they do. They make a connection, they ingrain themselves into ya... Goddamn imp, can't even follow the natural order of things_ _!_

Bang bang bang! Right on his door. He jumped, and so did the imp.

_Who the hell could that be so early?_  Jesse looked at the hellspawn across from him, then pointed at it with a metal finger. "I'll be back for you in a second."

"I'll hold ya to it." It sat on the counter, childishly swinging its animalistic legs, grinning that Cheshire grin. Creepy thing.

McCree shut the door and opened the one to his room, only to find Doctor Ziegler in her pajamas, pale as a marble statue, staring up at him with wide eyes and constricted pupils. She was terrified.

"Jesse, there's a demon in the bathroom!" she whispered urgently, though Jesse could tell it took all her willpower not to scream. "It's the one you told me about! The -- the  _actual_  demon --  _liebe_ _götter_  --" She grabbed his wrist with an icy hand, a vice of frozen blood and flesh digging into his bones. "Y-you must -- must get rid of it --"

_Oh, good gods._  With the hellspawn and the hangover and the lack of caffeine and Angela all bombarding him at once, Jesse could feel a savage headache coming on. "D-don't worry, doc, I got one here, too. I don't think they mean no harm," he explained with a sigh, watching her tightened lips go lax. Her deathgrip, however, didn't let up. "Turns out when the imp said he knew 'just the place,' he meant me. Er, my shadow. I think..."

"Why are they here?" Angela asked. She was trying desperately to save face, to appear more calm than she actually was, but it was a task she wasn't up to. She looked vulnerable, her hair down, knotted from sleep, and her body hunched. She was out of her element; she rarely, almost never dealt with demons herself.

Which was why it pissed Jesse off so much that these things got her tangled up in  _his_  mess. She didn't deserve it.

He tugged his wrist back toward himself. His companion hesitantly let go. "I'll take care of it, doc." He marched past her, swinging open the door to her room and barging into the bathroom. The bleeding demon stood in the middle of the floor, expressionless as ever. McCree growled.

"What the hell're you doin' here?" he demanded, voice harsh, staring up at Mako hatefully. It didn't say anything.

"Well?" he pressed.

Once again, it didn't say a word.

Jesse curled his prosthetic fist, the other holding onto Peacekeeper tightly. He was about to let the creature in front of him have it, but before a stream of curses could leave his bitter mouth, it raised its hands and began motioning.

It took Jesse a moment, but he realized what Mako was doing. "You're mute, are ya?" he muttered, mostly to himself -- the thought was supposed to be private. "Gimme a second." He turned and stalked back to Angela, who was standing with crossed arms and a frightened gaze outside his door.

"You gotta come talk to this thing," McCree blurted. Instantly, he earned an incredulous look from the good doctor.

"Why? I'm not like you, Jesse, I don't want to be friends with these...these... _beasts_." She shook her head, standing taller as her lips thinned, defiant. " _Ich_ _lehne_ _ab_."

"Ya don't understand," Jesse argued, "it's usin' sign language. I can't understand it."

Angela was unfazed."What does a demon have to say that I want to hear? Er...see?"

"It might be tellin' me what it's doin' harassin' you. Or maybe why it's here, in general. I dunno. It could be important." He ran a hand through his hair, absently thinking how greasy it was.  _Could use a shower._

Angela stood stubborn, though Jesse could tell she was swayed. "Will it leave if I do?"

The cowboy shrugged. "Maybe. But we can't talk to it unless you translate." He crossed his own arms. "You know I don't like involvin' you with demons directly, Angie, but you're the only friend I got that knows sign language."

"I'm the only friend you have, period," she corrected, brows furrowing.

"Right. So y'oughta do this for me." He smiled the nicest smile he could muster. It was incredibly difficult, considering how quickly his patience was wearing thin. Not to mention the fact he always looked strange when he smiled genuinely, even more so when he smiled (un)convincingly.

Angela curled her lip, voice smothered with sarcasm as she said, "Aren't you charming?" Then, she gave a deep sigh, her eyes momentarily closing. "I will help you, Jesse, but you must get rid of it.  _Both_  of them," she added quickly, opening her eyes to stare McCree down.

"Can't make any promises," Jesse admitted, though, if Angela heard him, she paid him no mind. She was gently pushing him toward her room.

He walked back into the bathroom, where the demon still stood, now thumbing through one of Angela's health magazines. He whistled.

Mako glanced up, grumbling in acknowledgement.

"Repeat what ya signed earlier," Jesse said, stepping to the side so Angela could see. She scowled at him.

The demon stared at her for a few moments, almost awkwardly. Then, it pointed at her. A question.

"She can understand ya," Jesse curtly explained, feeling his patience slip out from under him all over again.  _Better get to_ _signin_ _', beast,_  he thought, eyes narrowing.

As if it heard him thinking, it signed just as it had before. Angela watched.

"It says you have a big mouth for a man in his underwear." She crossed her arms again, looking sour. "I must agree, Jesse, you aren't exactly formidable. Not as though you are any other time." A smirk laced her words. Mako snorted in amusement.

Jesse's eyes widened and he glared over at her, his temper finally snapping. "Aw, fuck you. Both'a you," he snarled, feeling the sidling headache finally breach his skull. "This thing ain't gonna do nothin' --  _you_  deal with it." He jabbed a finger at Angela. "I'm takin' a shower." He stormed out of his partner-in-hunting's room, slamming the door shut and going directly into his own bathroom.

He was expecting the imp to be there to annoy him further, but when he opened the door, the entity was gone, a sticky note was left in its place. Despite himself, Jesse picked it up and read it.

_Got bored waiting. Went to get milk._

Jesse put on a deep scowl, but noticed, in tinier text, the note continued.

_P.S. Not actually getting milk. Just left._

He rolled his eyes. He was about to put the note down, but, at the very bottom, in handwriting so small he could barely read it, he noticed:

_P.S.S/P.P.S. (don't know what it is) Saw you looking ;)_

_Fuck!_  In a flash of fury, he crumpled up the paper and chucked it into the toilet, anger and embarrassment making him blush.  _Damn stupid imp. Damn stupid demon. Damn smartass Ziegler._

He flushed the toilet and went to turn on the tap, eager to let himself cool off in a frosty shower, but found only steaming, black water came out of the faucet. Infuriated, McCree kicked the side of the tub, leaving an ugly crack in the siding. "Cocksuckin' imp!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (google) translations:  
> mein betrunkener freund = my drunken friend  
> liebe götter = dear gods  
> ich lehne ab = i refuse


	3. Profound Nothingness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing happens, absolutely nothing of interest or concern. It's so irrelevant, in fact, Jesse's sure he'll forget it in a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3 is here lads and. whew. this was tough. Real No Motivation Hours lms if u up
> 
> this is definitely my least favorite chapter thus far, but hopefully it'll stay that way! i'm conflicted as to where to take this, so suggestions are always appreciated. thanks for reading and remember that I Appreciate You. see ya next time around!

"That was an idiotic thing to do."

Jesse sat back in the sofa, smoking angrily.

"It would've been different if you had shoes on."

He didn't answer.

Angela stood up, shaking her head, and glanced down at the bandages around McCree's foot. "Next time,  _think_  before you kick a bathtub." She sounded exasperated.

The gunslinger continued to smoke.

She started putting away her equipment, her expression tight-lipped and cold. When she finished, she looked back to the hunter, attempting, yet failing to make eye contact. "I should be able to fix it within two weeks, given I can find the right herbs." She took up her bag. "I am going to go look for some. If you need something, wait until I return."

Jesse smoked.

The Swiss doctor wasn't about to reconcile just yet, and made as much obvious. She clicked her way out of the hotel room (both of theirs; Jesse now had to share with her so she could keep an eye on him), not even giving him a farewell or final word.

The door shut unceremoniously, leaving Jesse alone with his thoughts and his cigar smoke. He closed his eyes, stewing in his fading anger, and tried to keep the spark of resentment alive.

It was hard. He couldn't stay mad at Angela for long; it was her job to keep him in line, as well as healthy, and her earlier teasing was all in good fun. As for the imp, well, it was an  _imp_  -- it existed to piss people off. Giving it what it wanted only fed into its obnoxious behavior.

Despite himself, he started to let go, ignoring the nasty little urge to hold grudges. He puffed away the edge until his cigar dwindled close to his mouth, then finally conceded that he needed to stop being so temperamental and stubborn. However, the notion was easier said than done, especially when the headache still pounded his brain to mush. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

A weight pulled down the cushion beside him, accompanied by hellish heat.

_Don't. Let it. Get to ya,_  he told himself, his gaze slowly settling on the hellspawn beside him, which, naturally, wore its grin full of fangs. He scowled. "Y'didn't answer me earlier, imp."

"I didn't?" it questioned, then acted as though it just remembered. "Oh, no, I didn't, did I? Well, that's 'cause it ain't important." It leaned forward and put its elbows on its knees, resting its head in its hands.

Jesse was about to open his mouth to argue, but decided to drop the conversation right then and there.  _Don't give it what it wants, Jesse._

The imp stared at him for awhile, one of its canines poking out between its smiling lips. Finally, it drawled, "Sooo...that your girlfriend?"

Obviously, it was referencing Doctor Ziegler -- there was no other "she" Jesse had been around. The hunter's scowl deepened. "What? No. You already know that -- stop askin' stupid questions."

"I do?" It feigned surprise, tail perking.

"You've been watchin' us since yesterday, ain't ya?"

"Mmmmaybe." It readjusted so it sprawled over the couch, legs crossed behind it while it laid on its belly. "Hey, wanna hear a secret?" it asked suddenly, putting its head in its hands again.

"No," Jesse replied.

"Good. My buddy Mako's grown kinda attached to your ladyfriend. Leaves me a little lonely." It adopted a false melancholy tone, pouting as it focused on the fabric of the couch below it. "She might'a told 'im to piss off after ya left, buuut that obviously didn't work." It grinned, malice behind its smile, and it brought its gaze back up to meet the gunslinger's.

Jesse sucked in a breath. "He didn't!"  _That motherfucker! He's gonna make her wanna kill me or some shit!_ "You best tell him not to mess with her head!" he exclaimed, fury boiling right back up in a matter of seconds, strengthening his headache and fueling his anger further. "I can still banish either of ya any time I want!"

The creature waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah. Look, he didn't  _possess_  her, if that's what you're worried about. He's just...hm..." It was obviously trying to choose its words carefully, despite playing it off as though it couldn't care less.

Jesse's eyes narrowed.

"He's just accompanyin' her for awhile!" the imp explained quickly, feeling the pressure. "He won't hurt her, trust me. That'd be awful rude, considerin' how  _hospitable_  you two've been to us." It smiled wide again, showing off its creepy wolf teeth.

Little bastard.

"I oughta terminate ya both," Jesse admonished. "Why can't ya leave her outta this?"

The hellspawn continued to defend its larger companion. "Well, see, he don't know how to hop onto shadows like I do. He can only stay with someone the same way the rest of 'em do. By...grabbin'...onto her...soul?" It winced, but continued to offer the demon hunter a "convincing" smile. It looked more like a grimace to him.

"Why didn't he do it to me?" Jesse demanded, bending so his face was threateningly close to the imp's. If it had on a shirt, he would've grabbed it.

It scrabbled to sit back up, squeezing itself to its side of the couch. "Ya'd sense it! Ya'd banish us!" Its tone was accusatory, its gaze heated.

"I'd rather have it happen to me than to Ziegler," said the cowboy, his jaw set. He had the urge to bust the dumb beast in its mouth, to let its pointed fangs dent up his metal fist on their way out of the thing's idiotically-grinning mouth, but didn't go through with the impulse. The imp might've been annoying, but...

"No point in shootin' the messenger," McCree mumbled, focusing on his sore foot.

The silence that drew out between them went on for so long, Jesse thought maybe the imp had melded with the shadows and left. However, when he looked over, it still sat beside him -- though its eyes weren't on him. It was staring at the propped-up foot, just as Jesse had been, and appeared to be thinking.

"What're you up to?" he asked it, the prior edge to his voice all but forgotten.

It shifted on the couch cushion. "Your ladyfriend's a witch, ain't she?" It was quieter now than Jesse had ever heard from it. He thought that maybe he'd hurt its feelings, but quickly diminished the idea. Hellspawn didn't have emotions, not in the human sense -- all they had was sadistic pleasure, inhumane rage, and sickly lust. It was impossible to hurt them that way.

"Er, in a sense, yeah. I mean, normal doctors wouldn't be able to fix a broke foot in two weeks, would they?" He peered at the bandages. "But she don't like to be called a witch. It implies somethin' bad; she's just usin' witchcraft to do good things." His gaze met the imp's as both of them glanced back up at each other. He was reminded of the first time he made direct eye contact with it, how  _intense_  it had been -- and, though its gaze was much softer this time, he couldn't help but become hyper-aware of himself and the fact it was there, sitting beside him, being friendly. He flushed.

Thankfully, the hellspawn paid him no mind. It was deep in thought.

Eventually, it asked, "How long'd ya say? Two weeks?"

"Uh, yeah." Jesse shifted. He couldn't say he trusted the imp, and all its quizzing made him uneasy. He considered threatening it again, just to deter it from making any sudden moves, but a threat was unneeded.

It smiled, putting forth its most genial tone as it spoke, "I can cut that time down to about a minute, if ya want. I got healin' properties -- and I won't even charge ya for it!" It began simpering again, and Jesse caught himself staring at its teeth.

"You want somethin'," he gradually concluded, tearing his eyes away from the canid grin and vying, instead, to stare the creature in the eyes. It took the opportunity to inch closer; Jesse scowled.

"Not at all. I think we got somethin' good goin' here, cowpoke -- we can be best mates! But that takes a little effort on my part. So," it wriggled closer, acting as though Jesse couldn't see it doing so, "I'm gonna heal ya. It's the least I could do, after my pal connected himself to your bird all rude-like."

Jesse didn't trust the thing as far as he could throw it, and told it as much. What did it have to gain from helping him at all? It just  _had_  to have an ulterior motive.

It looked offended, its thick brows furrowing and its lip curling. "And here I was, thinkin' we could have somethin' special." It turned its pointed nose up at him, shutting its eyes and tightening its lips. "Fine. Be like that. I didn't wanna do it anyway. Guess you'll be outta work for two weeks 'til Angelface can get her potions to work."

Jesse hated to admit it, but it...made a good point. He touched his chin, considering the olive branch.

"Y'sure ya won't do anything?" he muttered, almost too low to hear. The imp perked up, smirking, and opened an orangish-yellow eye.

"So ya want me to help ya?"

"Answer me first."  _D'ya_ _gotta be difficult with everything I ask?_

It turned back to him, with, dare he say...an  _affectionate_ air about it. McCree immediately displaced the thought, disgusted he would even read this... _thing_...that way.

_What_ _the hell's wrong with you?_ he berated himself.  _It's_ _an imp -- it don't feel nothin'!_

"Jess, if I was gonna hurt ya, I would'a done it already, don't'cha think?" It leaned back on the couch, putting its arms up on the backrest.

Jesse averted his gaze so he wouldn't stare, as he, for some reason, had a tendency to do. "'Jess'?" he echoed, staring incredulously at the wall behind it. "Is that what you're callin' me now?"

"We're  _friends_ , ain't we?" Its voice was so unexpectedly loud, so fiery, so  _portentous_ , it made Jesse flinch. Now he allowed himself to stare, giving the imp a look that said (for lack of a better term), "What the fuck?"

"I mean," it backpedaled, its cheeks darkening with what was obviously a blush (though Jesse had a hard time seeing it that way -- how could an imp get embarrassed?), "friends give each other nicknames, don't they? Thought I'd start." It gave a coy smile.

Jesse frowned, doubtful. "Well, shit, I don't even know your  _actual_  name, let alone a nickname."

"Mine?" Its eyes flitted away from him momentarily, a tooth flashing out to gnaw its bottom lip as it readjusted in its seat, and it brought its arms back to itself. Why was it so skittish all of a sudden? "Uh..."

"Do you, er,  _got_  one?" the hunter prompted, raising a quizzical eyebrow. Some low-ranking hellspawn weren't given names upon their creation. Maybe that was this one's case, though Jesse couldn't be sure of its rank before being damned to...uh..."impage"...?

The creature leaned forward, visibly uncomfortable. "Yeah, yeah, o'course I got one. I-it's just..." It trailed off.

Jesse waited.

"It's dumb," the thing finally grumbled, crossing its arms.

"It must fit, then." Jesse let himself smirk.

The imp glared at him for a moment, then screwed up its nose and stuck its tongue out. Jesse giggled, ignoring the tough guy persona he was supposed to be using with the abominable, childish thing, and inwardly thought it was mighty damn cute.

Before he had a chance to reprimand himself, the imp settled back down into the couch and muttered, with a muffled voice, "I got called  _Jamison_. So long 'n' formal 'n' not threatening at all. And there's no good nicknames for it -- I just settle for Jamie. But who the hell's gonna be scared of a demon named  _Jamie_?"

"Well, definitely not me, but I reckon there's someone out there who would," Jesse decided, chuckling. "But I don't think it's a bad name. Ya look like a Jamie."

The hellspawn groaned, shoving its horns into the back of the couch. Jesse barked at it to quit. It hesitantly complied, mocking him with a whiny, butchered accent.

Another bout of quietness spanned across the hotel room, but this one was broken by...er... _Jamie_.

"So ya want me to heal ya or what?" it snapped, sounding impatient.

"Y'know what?" Jesse said, deciding on the spot right then. "Go ahead. But you try anything, 'n' I'm gonna --"

It interrupted him with a single, short word. "Sure." It turned to him and got close, close enough that its heat made him begin sweating. Well, that's what he told himself, at least. It had nothing to do with the otherwordly creature's close proximity, nothing at all! And he was sure of it.

It reached down and gripped his leg with its clawed hands, then looked back to him with its signature, wily expression. "This might tickle."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds --" He was cut short by the bone-melting fire that seeped into his flesh, causing him to suck in a sharp breath and his eyes to snap wide. He was winding back to strike out, scared and angry, but the imp disappeared with a fit of giggles before he could even draw back his fist.

He glanced around for it, breathing hard, headache thrumming to the rapid beat of his heart, and eventually caught sight of it on the ceiling, grinning madly down on him.

"Liar!" Jesse snarled, going to stand up -- only to find that, well, he actually  _could_  stand up. His gaze snapped downward, shocked at the total lack of pain. Even the burning that had spooked him so bad had faded.

"...Oh."

When he looked back up, Jamie was in front of him, still beaming. "See? Told ya!" It laughed again. It was a nice sound, especially since it lacked the psychotic undertones it usually had.

If Jesse wasn't mistaken, the hellspawn sounded relieved, as though it wasn't expecting a good outcome. He crossed his arms. "You hadn't a damn clue what you was doin', did ya?" He raised an eyebrow; now it was his turn to simper.

"Nope!" Jamie admitted, still happily bubbling, unaffected by Jesse's smugness. "Never did it once in me creation!" It absolutely vibrated with positive energy, and McCree got the sense what it had done was a huge accomplishment in its book.

His smile became genuine. "You're lucky, then. Ya scared me there for a second, partner, I ain't gonna lie --"

"Oh, do I know it!" it yelled, voice cracking. "You was about to knock me lights out! I got away just in time!" It grabbed onto the hunter's shoulders, tail kinking as it bent its knees so it was eye level with him. "Could ya imagine that? Two forbidden best pals, dukin' it out and cryin' the whole time. I should write a screenplay." It bounced a couple times on its taloned feet.

Jesse blushed at the entity's touch, avoiding its gaze so he wouldn't worsen his visage.  _Fuck, wish I had my hat._  He didn't know why he got so flustered with the silly creature, nor why he couldn't make eye contact with it without feeling...out-of-place, but he blamed it on the fact it was a satanic being and had that sort of impact on mortals. Plausible enough, right?

"Maybe ya should," reciprocated Jesse, forcing himself out of his thoughts.

The imp let loose a dumb giggle, squeezing his shoulders a bit too amicably for his tastes. "Hm. Remember when ya said ya liked me?" Its arch smile returned, stupid and winsome. Jesse had mixed feelings about it.

"I feel like this ain't gonna go well." He went to take a step back, but found the couch blocking his path.  _O'course_ _._

Jamie's grin became almost meek as it admitted, "Well, I think you're right swell, too."

Suddenly, it let him go, slitted pupils constricting as it cringed. Jesse was taken aback. "I-I mean, I can't -- can't really tell if we're on friendly terms or not, but, uh..." Its words began muddling together as it hurried to spit them out, acting like it remembered it had somewhere to be. "You -- you get it. I gotta go. Catch ya later, Jess!" It backed off, twirling so fast its tail whipped McCree's leg, and dipped into the floor before the cowboy had a chance to respond.

Now, if Jesse was a less experienced hunter, he'd think the imp was actually offering a legitimate friendship. Its behavior was convincing enough in human terms, but was unnatural and downright suspicious for a hellspawn. In addition, if Jesse was a more idiotic man that humanized hellspawn, he'd think it  _liked_  liked him. But that was such a ridiculous, wild suspicion -- he didn't even consider it to be an option.

All he knew was he had to keep his eye on his shadow's new friend. Also, that Angela wasn't going to be too happy about him still talking to a vessel of Hell, let alone letting it touch him.

Ah, well. Such was the demon hunter's life...well, this one's, at least.


	4. Unending Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse and Angela hit a rough patch involving the hellspawn that plague them, but that's nothing a good hunt can't fix! If only a mysterious new huntress wouldn't have gotten in the way...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all! thanks for your feedback on my thrown-together lil "poll" -- we've officially jumped ships! i'm deeply sorry to anyone who was here for some wholesome mercyhog content, but hopefully soon i'll be able to come up with something for the two of them romantically! for this story, however, their relationship will be platonic at best. thank you for reading, I Appreciate You endlessly

As expected, when Angela returned, she was livid.

"I thought you'd gotten rid of it!" she exclaimed, her brows furrowing and face reddening.

"How am I s'posed to do that?" Jesse returned, genuinely asking. "He ain't attached to me. Not like --" He stopped short, refusing to remember the fact a demon was clinging to Angela's spirit. Denying it felt better than acknowledging it, and she didn't know it yet -- no use in alarming her right then.

The doctor went rigid. "You mean you don't know?" A flash of cold fear tore though her fury, but was replaced almost instantaneously. "You're the demon hunter, Jesse! Are you a damn fool? Of course you are -- anyone else would've banished the stupid beasts as soon as they saw them!" Her sharp, blue gaze pierced right through his flesh and blood, passing right by his bones and organs and splitting his soul in two. It hurt.

Angela Ziegler could hold her temper easier than Jesse could ever dream to. Angela Ziegler was above letting her emotions control her. Angela Ziegler didn't say things out of fear, anger, or spite.

And she still didn't. Her words rung true, and that was why they hurt him so much.

When Jesse was hurt, he struck back.

"The imp was right," he growled, "you ain't nothin' but a dirty, connivin' witch. What kinda poison did ya bring in to give to me this time, huh,  _d_ _octor_?" The last word was slathered with contempt, a mockery of the real term and its meaning. He knew it would sting her.

Her face got stonier, her resolve hardened. "I stand by your side, I heal you, I mend wounds and ailments you get pursuing a frivolous career that's dying more and more every day -- and you believe me to be nothing but a lowly witch poisoning you? Not only that, but you're still conversing with that godsforsaken  _animal_  -- agreeing with it, even. Do you want it to drag you into Hell with it? Do you want to be corrupted and turned into an  _imp's_  servant for an eternity? How absolutely degrading!"

"Sounds pretty kinky to me."

They both turned to glower at the imp, whose presence they hadn't noticed beforehand. Beside it sat its demonic friend, looking as passive as ever. The smaller of the two stiffened under their harsh gazes.

"Oh, uh, don't mind us," it stuttered. "Just, er, just here to tidy up for ya." It got up, knocking a lamp off the end table. "Oh, dear. These -- these wings'a mine..." It chuckled nervously, cheeks darkening, and went to pick up the lamp.

Angela shot Jesse a smoldering glance. He was unsure who to address first, let alone what to say; without his voice, a thick, awkward silence sat heavy in the room, the four of them staring among each other.

Finally, as per usual, Jamie was the one to break the stillness. "Okay, well, I gotta say, Angelface, I don't much appreciate bein' called an 'animal.' And the both of us certainly ain't 'beasts' -- that's just ignorant. We're just as human as the both of ya. Just a bit more bloodthirsty."

Dr. Ziegler was taken aback. Her jaw moved to say something intelligent, but she couldn't come up with anything better than, "You lie."

It ignored her flimsy accusation. "One more thing. Stop usin' the I-word. You know the one." It glanced at Jesse, an actual threat behind its growl.

"You shouldn't be here," Angela managed to spit, unfazed by the entity's thinly-veiled threat. "You are unwelcome. We didn't give you permission to...to... _follow_  us." She chose her wording carefully.

Jamie gained that sideways grin, teeth flashing evilly. "Ya wanna bet, atomic blondie? Jess here said we was friends. Isn't that right, hunter?"

Every pair of eyes in the room landed on him at once. His face went up in flames, and he was glad for his dark complexion. "I, er, I --"  _Couldn't ya keep your mouth shut for over three minutes?_  he mentally reprimanded the creature, smiling so dastardly in his direction.

He lowered his hat. "Not exactly," he murmured, unable to meet anyone's stare.

Instantly, the beige-tinted room erupted with yells of protest from Jamie, icy confirmations from Angela, and rolling groans of annoyance from Mako, all of which had been coming since the argument began. Jesse's head rattled with the noise.

The TV, which had been droning on since Jamie's earlier disappearance, seemed to get louder the more they argued, the monotone drawling of news reporters overlapping the cries of the hellspawn and the Swiss medic. The voices rose to a volume that caused the walls to vibrate, gently at first, then made them begin shuddering into a full-on quake, so harsh Jesse was certain they would collapse and the ceiling would cave. He covered his ears to block it out, the sensitivity that had saved his life on many occasions now becoming a channel for head-splitting agony. "Fuck, stop it!" he cried out, but the others' voices overrode his own so badly he thought maybe he hadn't spoken at all. It didn't take long for his own thoughts to be drowned out, the sound of his own inner workings -- the quickening thumps of his heart, the streaming of his blood, the needy intake of air -- all being muted the more he tried to listen to them.

But then, he realized, just as he was sure his head would explode -- it had stopped. All of it. Jamie, Angela, Mako, the TV -- everything had stopped all at once, rocking him so roughly he felt sick on his stomach.

Two voices chimed at the same time. "Jesse?"

Both were high-pitched, but one was certainly more masculine than the other. Worry etched the effeminate one; curiosity bubbled in the male's.

 _Angela...and...the imp...,_ he reminded himself, opening his eyes, which he hadn't even realized had been screwed shut. He gradually uncovered his ears.

Burning heat centered beside him, penetrating his flannel shirt. He looked over to meet Jamie's catlike eyes, the slit pupils dilating as their gazes met, blackening the orange irises that swam in pools of gold.

They were pretty.

The imp sniffed. It sniffed  _him_. "Why'd ya scream? We was havin' a perfectly friendly conversation." It nodded to Angela. "She made good points. Should'a been a lawyer."

"Too...too loud," he grumbled, ears still ringing. Every sound that hit them hurt.

It latched onto his arm, putting its face close to his as it inspected him. Angela immediately gasped and exclaimed, "Get off of him!  _Du_ _hässliches_ _biest_  -- don't touch him!" The imp was shoved away, hissing as it scampered back with a bruised look. Jesse knew it couldn't hurt her, but if it bid its large friend to...

"Careful," he told Angela, standing upright. "Y'can't go fightin' hellspawn with just your fists, now."

Angela didn't break eye contact with the imp, which eventually did so itself, instead glaring at the dirty, claw-torn carpet. Only then did she meet Jesse's gaze, and he immediately realized why the hellspawn had backed down. "If only you had allowed me to learn how to banish lesser beings. Then we wouldn't have this problem." She wore a wry smile, a fake, taunting expression that made his blood freeze.

Something wasn't right.

He glanced at the demon, still sitting on the couch. It waved. He scowled.

 _She wasn't this quick to anger 'til you showed up,_  he thought bitterly, narrowing his eyes.  _What've_ _you done to her?_

"Aw, no, you're not doin' this," Jamie interrupted, breaking right through his thoughts. "You ain't blamin' my mate for the witch's shitty attitude. He ain't touched her one bit."

Jesse blinked. "How'd you -- ?"

"I read minds." It wiggled its taloned fingers, eyebrows bouncing. "Better watch what ya think!" It slithered closer to him, hunched and giggling, tail kinked and wings high behind its back. Jesse rolled his eyes.

Angela spoke up. "Didn't anyone teach you it's impolite to talk about people as though they aren't present?" She eyed the imp that continually inched closer to her partner, but, before it could answer, looked to McCree. "I'm stronger than a demon's influence, if that's what concerns you, Jesse. But I can't tolerate these things any longer. This is the last time I'll beg you to get rid of them."

"'It's impolite to talk about people as though they aren't present,'" Jamie mocked, its voice high-pitched and nagging. It curled its lip, waving the other blonde off. Jesse snorted.

Angela's eyes narrowed. "You are  _not_  a person."

"I'm hurt, lady, I really am," Jamie deadpanned, then turned back to Jesse. "Hey, wanna get outta here? I'm sure you're just as tired of havin' your head torn off as I am."

Jesse shook his head. "She's got a point, partner. Y'know how quick I'd be out of a job if people found out I'm...uh..."

Its pupils constricted dangerously. "What? That you're  _friends_  with a demon?" There was that threatening tone again, used in the same context as before. Every one of Jesse's muscles tightened.

Jamie saw, and immediately settled down again, just as it had before. "I see how it is, Jess. I'll leave ya be." It glanced at Mako. "Can't say so much for him, though." It winked when it looked back to McCree, then put on a woeful face to cover up in front of the medic. "Can't even have a best mate, can I? Just meant to be lonely forever." It shot an accusatory look at Dr. Ziegler, who simply crossed her arms and waited. The imp sneered.

It waved goodbye to Jesse, tail curling about its leg, and began to purse its lips -- but stopped itself as it remembered Angela, red cheeks turning mahogany. It slid into the floor suddenly and with ease. For a moment, Jesse was confused as to what it was about to do.

Was...was it about to blow a kiss at him? He flushed.  _Gods, sure hope not. That'd be..._  He fought to find the right word.

 _...Gross_.

He rolled the term over in his mind, but he couldn't convince himself it was the correct one. He mouthed it to try and cement the meaning; even that didn't make it sound right, no matter how much he wanted it to.

The demon had also disappeared, leaving not so much as an indent in the couch cushions. Jesse ran a hand through his hair, huffing, but knew the argument was far from over.

"It couldn't have been that simple," Angela said scathingly, her arms still crossed.

Jesse nodded. "That imp's got a trick up his sleeve, I know it. We ain't seen the last of 'em."

Absently, he caught himself hoping he was right.

**×××**

Days, then weeks passed without incident. The two scrabbled for work, hitting town after town, city after city, and state after state. They found nothing. Demons were shier in these times, intimidated by the advancements of technology, science, and human understanding as a whole. People didn't believe in them, and thus didn't live in fear of them; they found it harder and harder to cause anything but a splash in the great ocean of humanity.

Ironic, Jesse had to think, because he'd seen what demons could do.

He tried not to recall the imp and its entrancing, magma-hued eyes, of the demon that was surely still holding onto a piece of his partner's spirit. He was constantly torn between telling her or letting it go on in silence; after her outburst, she hadn't acted much different, if any different at all. She was still the demanding, prim Dr. Ziegler, as caring, yet hard-nosed as ever.

Jesse couldn't decide what to do with her.

Two weeks in, and they finally found a case -- a desperately-needed distraction and job. A man had come in possession of an old Korean machine pistol, but inadvertently released a demonic entity into his home. He described it as humanoid, feminine, taunting him as though it were an imp, though was anything but. He claimed its sickly sweet, flowery scent caused hallucinations of wartime carnage and scrambled his thoughts. The one time the man had seen it, he'd been overwhelmed with a sense of self-loathing and suffered memory loss.

Too bad they only had the one report, despite its extensiveness. The man lived alone, refusing to have visitors over since the haunting began. Which was good, Jesse had thought, but more reports would've given them a more accurate idea of what, exactly, they were dealing with.

From what they knew, though, this hellspawn was more powerful than many Jesse had faced. It was obviously a higher-ranking demoness, and the hunter had to wonder how far its powers really stretched. Undoubtedly, it could physically harm him. He had to prepare with the according chants and oils, provided by Angela and her gently coaxing voice. He wasn't frightened, but he was definitely apprehensive. Angela shared his worry.

When they stepped from the truck, the air seemed to condense, the clouds gathering above them. Wind buffeted Jesse's hat; he held it down.

"Thunderstorm," he said quietly.

Angela nodded. "We'll have to deal with this quickly." She tugged the sleeve around Jesse's free hand, approaching the house in her sterile, white jacket.

She knocked once. Twice. They glanced at one another. Jesse moved his mouth to ask, "Is he even home?" but before he could speak, the door opened.

The man was unremarkable. Middle-aged. Dark, graying hair. Creased with worry lines. He seemed small, the room behind him so dark they couldn't see inside.

"Oh, um, hello. Who might you be?" He fingered his shirt collar.

"Jesse McCree and Doctor Angela Ziegler, sir," Angela explained bleakly, as she always did. "Demon hunter and medic." She paused, and Jesse knew she wanted to cast him a look, but refused, continuing on. "You, er, contacted us about twenty-four hours ago."

The man stared out into the grass, his eyes glazed. "Oh, my. I must've...forgotten. You must beg my pardon."

Angela nodded, elbowing Jesse as she caught his smirk from the corner of her eye. "It's quite all right, Mr. Pierce. Might we --"

"Sir, I have located the demoness." A tall, dark-clad figure slid from the shadows, and, for a stiff moment, Jesse thought Jamie had come back. However, the voice was far from that of the imp's -- the speaker was soft-spoken yet commanding, an apathetic frost in her thick, French accent. She revealed herself, squinting unnatural, yellowish-hazel eyes in the direction of the clouded sun.

The woman before them was a stunning beauty. She had a delicate nose, thick lashes, and pouting lips, though she was terribly pale, as if she hadn't seen sunlight for years. She seemed the type to constantly be frowning, yet little to no lines marred her perfect features.

Her garb told him all he needed to know. It was rather Victorian in style, but practical instead of regal like most fashion of the era. The sleek coat, the tight-fitting boots, the breathable slacks -- it was the clothing of a huntress (with a very specific aesthetic).

Angela said nothing. Without looking at her, Jesse greeted his fellow demon hunter. He spotted a flash behind her back -- a gun, a sniper rifle it seemed, slung carefully over her shoulder. High caliber, silver with ornate designs, certainly worth more than his wood-colored Peacekeeper. He cleared his throat, the woman's piercing gaze landing on him. She was hardly shorter than he, but, somehow, still found a way to look down upon him.

" _Salut_ ," was all she said, a chilled eloquence that put his clumsy "howdy" to shame.

"Not to be rude, ma'am, but...why're ya here?"

Jesse tried to keep his tone friendly, but the huntress still bridled at his words. "I have been hired to find and exterminate. As were you." She cast a disinterested glance at their "customer." "Perhaps Mr. Pierce should allow you to move on."

It was Jesse's turn to bristle. "Now, hold on just a minute, miss. I'd like to think we need this job more than you."

A meticulously-sculpted eyebrow quirked. "Oh? Well, I am not stopping you from thinking that way. The job will be completed by the time you're done considering." She didn't smile, but Jesse could detect her amusement. His frown deepened.

He looked to Angela for support. The blonde was frozen on the spot, her eyes on her clipboard and her face red.

 _Y'can't_ _be serious,_  he tried to tell her via his mind, but she didn't quite catch it (not that he expected her to). He continued anyway.  _Good gods, we don't even know the lady's name, 'n' you already got a thing for her? She's our competition, we can't even be friends with her -- let alone feel soft for her!_

The huntress gazed down at Mr. Pierce again, looking bored. "If you would, might you show these two where they are to --"

A bone-rattling roar erupted from the house, a raucous clash of weapons, great cats, and otherworldly beasts resounding from within. They all peered inside. The blackness was unrelenting. Nothing, and no one, moved. They waited with bated breath for another spine-chilling bellow.

A foreboding, girlish laugh snickered from the heavy shadows, somehow more terrifying than the brutish rumble.

_"Game over."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (google) translations:  
> du hässliches biest - you ugly beast
> 
> hm. Wonder Who That Demoness Could Be


	5. Magic Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the hunt begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring a fresh pov from amélie! i'm back at it again with some more demonic antics. turns out hunters don't know as much about hellspawn as they like to think. jesse just can't seem to catch a break, can he?
> 
> thanks for reading, and remember I Appreciate You!

For a few moments, nobody moved. Then their eyes found each other's, apprehensive and even fearful. For those few moments, no one even dared to breathe.

All except Amélie.

No, she was  _relieved_  to have found a worthy hellspawn. This was why she picked up demon hunting in the first place -- she needed to feel the hastened beating of her placid heart, the adrenaline pumping in her veins, the thrill she sought since her dull childhood. She needed the soul's nicotine for her being, the one thing she could always count on to make her feel alive; this demoness was what she'd been seeking for months. It was a disciplined, vicious hellspawn created for Satan's demonic army. Why it decided to come into the mortal realm, she didn't know; the "soldiers" usually stuck to the underworld.

 _A pity,_  she had thought,  _it would've been much safer for it in Hell._

Now, as she peered into the unyielding darkness, she decided this termination  _must_  be hers. The gaudy cowboy and his fluttery friend would need to find lesser demons.

Her client gave the hunters a jittery, frightened look. "P-please, one of you -- please get rid of it!" His voice was pleading, shaken terribly. Amélie nearly pitied him.

She was quick to step forward. "I will deal with this nuisance." She caught the gritty gunslinger's stormy gaze beside her. "Not to be infantile,  _pistolero_ ," she studied his reaction, "but I was here first."

She watched his jaw tighten, the wind blowing his long hair across his face. He moved it; Amélie would've tutted at his impracticality. Didn't he know to tie his hair back so it would stay out of the way? She'd learned that in the Sixième during science, arguably beforehand in her mother's kitchen.  _Americans and their disappointing education..._

"You look pretty well off," the greasy man argued. She wondered how often he bathed. "Ya don't need this job like we do."

Amélie allowed herself to smile, ever so slightly. "You assume I am a sympathetic woman."

The cowboy seemed ready to blow up at her, but before he got the chance, frostbitten claws wrapped around her wrist and dragged her into the unseen reaches of the house. She only uttered a short gasp, refusing to yell out or scream, before being consumed by the dark.

Amélie's heart thudded faster, and that pleased her. She was far from afraid; in fact, she welcomed the demoness's impatience with the quarreling. It saved her a lot of time, dragging her inside with it.

When the entity spoke, its voice was high and accented; Amélie identified it as East Asian, presumably Korean.

"I know you two must be big fans," it said, almost childlike, "but there's no point in fighting over me! Why can't you both come in? The more players the better!"

Amélie was silent for a few seconds, confused. Then, assuredly, "I have come alone,  _vilain_ _petit_ _lutin_. I will banish you into Oblivion." Her words were sharp shards of ice, meant to prickle the hellspawn and get under its skin. They had no such impression.

The beast giggled. "Cute! But in my opinion, it's no fun playing on your own."

She sensed it stalking around her, its cool breath skittering up her neck. She considered saying something -- but, instead, allowed the demoness its observation. That didn't stop her from reaching up to her night-vision visor, however.

The TV sat on the wall, off. The furniture was perfectly average, unscathed and dully ordinary. The carpet was white. An unwise choice; didn't dear Mr. Pierce know how hard it was to keep that clean?

She supposed it wasn't important. No matter where she looked, she couldn't find the sniggering demoness. Its invisible presence was close, as if it stood right beside her, staring her in the face, and yet it wouldn't show itself. Infuriating creature.

"No cheating!" The visor crackled and powered off, the battery suddenly drained. Amélie, despite herself, felt a twinge of annoyance. If only the beast would show itself -- it would find a silver bullet wedged between its eyes and, soon after, runes carved into its flesh all in a matter of seconds.

What could she say? She liked to make them suffer.

The thing tutted, but Amélie couldn't locate its voice. "Don't you know? Cheaters are banned from the server!"

"What --" she began to say, but before the rest of the syllable could leave her mouth, she felt her back hit the grass. She gritted her teeth, not even having felt herself pushed or flung through the air, but found she was about three meters from the front door of the home.

Three pairs of curious eyes stared at her, and, for a split second, she swore she saw two more. They were gone before she even fully registered them; she decided she must've hit the back of her head (though it didn't hurt), and stood up, shrugging off the American hunter's medic as she hurried forward to inspect her.

"It is certainly powerful," she admitted, somewhat dazed, then shook her head.

The woman at her side looked to her partner, brandishing a triumphant expression. "We will have to work together, it seems."

The hunter frowned, deeper than the ugly scowl that seemed to be sewn into his face. "Who says? Just 'cause  _she_  can't face it don't mean I can't."

Amélie smiled icily, amazed at the man's cockiness. "You know as well as I do that I am a be--"

A shadow shifted. The shadow the demon hunter flung, however faded it was in the cloud-strewn sunlight, moved unnaturally, making motions its owner hadn't made -- and Amélie didn't miss the brief half-second it slipped up. She calmly met the cowboy's agitated gaze.

"I believe," she murmured, "that there something is unnatural about you,  _pistolero_ _._ "

**×××**

Jesse was unsure how to answer. What made her say that? She couldn't have possibly seen Jamie or the demon, Mako -- he would've certainly spotted them first, or felt the warning signs of their presence. He was careful not to look behind him, lest the huntress would pick up on it and investigate further.

Her strange eyes were observant, never missing a beat, dissecting him and analyzing every piece of his mangled body. He realized how people must've felt under his own critical eye, the one all hunters shared; he ignored the urge to shudder, remembering that the two of them were equals.  _Won't be intimidated by you._

"What'd'ya mean, miss?" he asked naively, crossing his arms to save some sort of dignity.

The huntress blinked, slowly. "I think you know. Maybe you should tell us what I mean." She strode forward, her hands loosely grasping each other behind her back. Her gait was confident.

"Afraid I can't do that," he told her, watching as she went to circle him. Anger flickered in the back of his mind.  _Who died 'n' made you queen?_  he wanted to ask, but replaced it with, "I think we'd get along a lot better if ya'd just speak your mind."

She stopped. Looked him in the eyes. Their gazes challenged the other's, sparked with confidence and an unconcealed challenge of power.

"This demoness," Angela suddenly butt in, "will take more than one hunter to defeat. Perhaps we should team up and split the reward."

He broke the standoff between himself and the huntress to stare at Angela. She was hopeful, and would surely reprimand him if he chose to walk in alone. Her innocent looks now were quite deceiving.

But, as usual, Dr. Ziegler had a point. He'd already seen what the demoness had done to the pale woman he deemed an enemy; maybe working together was for the best.

McCree turned back to the dark-haired sniper, and, begrudgingly, held out his hand.

She observed it quizzically, her cool glower feeling odd on the unseen skin of his palm. It appeared she wouldn't take his offer, that she'd turn and face down the demoness alone one more time. But, in a motion that surprised even herself, she put her gloved hand in his. They shook.

"So," Angela eased in, "what shall we call you, miss?"

"Whatever you wish." She turned to the door, taking slow steps as though she was on a casual stroll. Angela gave Jesse a discouraged look.

"Some call me the Huntress. Others, Widowmaker. Most...Amélie." She paused at the door, standing tall beside a trembling Mr. Pierce, and threw a glance over her shoulder. "Let's finish this."

Angela's blush was back again. Jesse should've been agitated, what with Amélie's dramatic introduction and the shameless way his friend ate it up, but, once again, it was fucking funny and he couldn't persuade the smile off his face. He nudged her with a prosthetic elbow.

She gave him a dirty look that could freeze Hell, then lightly pushed him forward. He snickered, trailing after the haughty sniper and into the shadowy house.

Inside was black as pitch; even his trained eyes couldn't penetrate it. He started to say something to Amélie, but a rush of hot air took his breath away.

"The cheater came back, huh?" the demoness hissed in its childish way, tittering vilely. "And she brought a friend. I guess I can make an exception -- after all, it's not like she can cheat anymore!"

A flash of fangs and and a wisp of brown hair darted in front of him, so close he could smell flowers. He whipped out Peacekeeper faster than he could breathe, turning in a circle to try and locate the hellspawn.

A whisper slithered into his ear. "Let me handle this."

He looked over, shocked, and spotted a mischievous yellow gaze, just barely visible in the lightless blanket.

He let himself wear a secret smile.

However, his pleasant surprise was cut short when he realized that, if Amélie were to see or sense Jamie, she would have no qualms in exterminating it. He grabbed her wrist.

"Do  _not_  touch me," she hissed quietly, absolutely frigid, jerking her hand away. "Make yourself useful and give us a light."

Jesse wasn't about to do that. He didn't know what Jamie had in mind, but, whatever it was, it had to be at least a little bit in his favor. His job was to stall at this point, and keep the imp hidden. He kept swearing he heard bits of conversation, snippets of "trust me" and "you're stupid" -- two invisible children bickering, nearly out of earshot. He had to ensure Amélie wouldn't hear.

"You're awfully catty," he told her, spitting out the first thing he thought of when he envisioned her conceited face. He pretended to try and flick on his lighter, mumbling curses.

He couldn't see the huntress, but he was certain she was inflamed with him. She suddenly made a grab for the lighter -- but her aim was off by a millimeter and her hands skittered past his own.

"Hey!" he barked, pulling the lighter toward himself.

Amélie's voice was glacial. "Be quiet! You're going to botch this mission before it even begins. What sort of demon hunter are you?"

Jesse smiled. "The best sort."

"I beg to disagree." By the sound of her feet shuffling, she'd turned away from him to seek out the demoness.

"You know it as well as I do," Jesse said quickly. "How many hunts ya got under your belt? How many banishments?"

"I said," seethed Amélie, "be  _quiet_! It will hear us!"

"It probably already has." Jesse used his lighter to bring a flame to the cigar he'd put in his lip.

Amélie sucked in a breath. "Wait, don't put it --"

He stopped the flame, taking a drag from the cigar with a sly smirk.

Her eyes were daggers, burying themselves into his skin and twisting, despite being unable to see him. He was exponentially uncomfortable, and willed Jamie to hurry --

The French sniper let out a gasp and a small yelp of surprise. Jesse went to reach for her, but before he could get to her she was flung from the home as easily as a ragdoll, just as she had before. The door slammed shut and locked.

"So," said some disembodied voice. A girl's, young, Korean. "A little imp told me you're a friendly hunter."

"Uh,  _demon_ , actually," corrected Jamie from somewhere, as invisible as the demoness.

" _Ibdagchyeo_ , imp!"

Jamie's voice was smaller when he said, "Whatever that means." The other hellspawn ignored him, its attention centering back on Jesse; he could feel its presence around him, on him, but not quite in him, thank the gods.

"Is it true? He says you're friends. Actually, he's really adamant about it." Its tone was light. "I pity you."

Jesse's brows knitted. "That's what he told ya, huh?"  _Damn thing put me between a rock 'n' a hard place. We ain't friends, dammit! But if I say that, this demoness isn't gonna be too friendly anymore..._

He really hated saying it, but it had to be said. If only he'd pulled his head out of his ass long enough to shoot when it chucked Amélie out the door! "Er, yeah, we're...friends." He cringed.

A snarky little snicker echoed in his ears, and his nerves immediately started to fray, feeling himself flush.  _You_ _connivin_ _' little bastard. You know what you're doin',_ _don't'cha_ _? Why's this so important to you?_  He'd ask it all these questions and more once the demoness was out of the way -- and sure as hell wouldn't forget to curse it out for its trickery.

"That's weird," was all the demoness had to say on the matter. The shadows seemed to lighten up right then, become less dense. Some light started filtering through from the kitchen.

A pale gray girl stood before him, with magma innards that glowed and igneous armor covering her body. She wore a crown of hardened lava (or perhaps horns; Jesse couldn't be sure) in her thick swath of dark brown hair, and on her face she wore a black-lipped simper, two coppery, iridescent eyes, and a button nose.

It was rather cute. The creature got lucky in its appearance.

The smell of flowers -- roses, daisies, lilies -- was overpowering.

"I'm going to be honest with you, I think." It quite nearly looked forlorn as it stared up at him. "I'm bored here. This guy's no fun, won't play my games...and I think I'm ready to move on. I was wondering, since you're such good friends with Jamie -- you wouldn't mind me coming with you, would you?"

He must've looked baffled, because the hellspawn kept explaining.

"I can't do that stupid shadow stuff he does, so I'll have to hold a piece of your spirit -- but I won't do anything with it. I have no use for it! I'm powerful enough as it is." It grinned, its teeth serrated and layered like a shark's. "In fact, it would probably weaken me, if anything...er, no offense."

Jesse's mouth moved, but he couldn't make anything come out. What did he look like, a demonic bed and breakfast?

After a few moments of silence, it impatiently exclaimed, "You just seem to have such fun adventures! I want to see the Overworld, too!" It might've stamped its foot, but Jesse couldn't see below its waist.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.  _I'm gonna kill 'im. He better enjoy his last couple minutes_ _bein_ _' a shitty little imp, 'cause I'm gonna kill 'im._

What could he do? The demoness was offering an olive branch. It didn't want to hurt him -- in fact, it wanted to see the world he lived in. Being a hellish soldier meant it probably never had a chance to escape the pit it crawled out of -- how it did so, he had no idea. But now it was up here, and it was curious. And, realistically, it could probably crush him and Amélie both.

He hated that he sympathized with it. He hated that he had an imp riding on his shoulder that told other hellspawn he would be willing to make an alliance. He hated that he took a job trying to fight a soldier demon.

He hated that he couldn't blame said soldier demon for his problems.

"Only for a little while," he growled. "Then you gotta go back where you belong. I got friends, 'n' no matter how powerful you think you are, you can't take on more than two of us." He glared down at it.

Then, it got taller.

And taller.

And taller, until it had nearly four feet on him.

The shadows cleared more, until the home was lit as normally as any other. Except, no other home had an enormous, four-winged, six-legged arthropod-demoness in its living room.

It became insectoid at the navel. Its carapace was made of igneous rock, like what covered its humanoid body. It had six long, crooked legs that were crab-like in appearance. Two horn-like protrusions erupted from its back, between its larger set of wings, and curved back similar to Jamie's. Its smaller set of wings was positioned between its shoulder blades; both sets were as insectoid as its body.

Jesse had seen worse. However, the creature wasn't nearly as cute as it had been before.

"I think we can get along," said the demoness, smiling sweetly. It reached down and grabbed him -- he yelled for it to let him go, but it didn't and instead squeezed him in a surprisingly gentle, warm hug.

"All right, D.Va, you're gonna crush 'im," said a familiar Aussie accent. Jamie manifested itself in front of them, looking tiny.

"Diva?" Jesse repeated; his feet were suddenly touching the ground again, plopped in front of the imp he couldn't stand, yet fancied.

Jamie shook its head. "No,  _D.Va_. D.Va the Destroyer, if you're feelin' proper. She'll bite your head off if ya get it wrong. Quite literally." It grinned that idiotic grin. Jesse felt his blood boil.

He still smiled back, though. "You're a goddamn moron. All I gotta say is, she better not fuck with my head. I'll hold you accountable." He adjusted his hat, feeling it begin to slip off, and tossed a glance over his shoulder.

D.Va the Destroyer was gone.

He shuddered. Now he could feel it  _in_  him.

"Don't you dare tell the doctor what happened," he warned Jamie, all humor lost. "It's bad enough we're still totin' you two around."  _Still gotta tell her about Mako..._

Jamie pressed its thin lips together. "These lips're sealed, cowpoke."

"Good." He turned to the door, its paleness incapable of standing out against the milky walls. It was just as boring as D.Va described.

"Hey."

He looked back to Jamie, whose arms were crossed.

"Yeah?"

"I didn't hear a thanks, mate. I saved you 'n' the baguette's arses just now." Its tail flicked discontentedly.

"Oh," Jesse muttered, finding the bland floor to be quite interesting all of a sudden. "Well, uh, I'm sure we could --"

"Ya couldn't. Trust me. I've seen what she can do, along with the other soldiers. That's somethin' not even five hunters can take on." Jamie was suddenly there in front of him, staring intently down at his hat.

Jesse nodded, understanding, and didn't look up. "Yeah." He kicked that boring old floor, with its black-streaked carpet and rumpled rugs. "I -- I guess you paid your debt then, though it was in a dumbass way." He met the imp's gaze the same way he'd met Amélie's, challenging and unwaveringly. "And...and I thank ya for it. You can go now if ya want to -- nothin's holdin' ya back anymore."

Jamie snorted. "And miss out on this? No way, cowpoke. We're mates now, ya said so yourself. I'll be here for awhile." It grinned in the way only an imp could -- no, the way only  _this_  imp could. It began reaching for Jesse's hand; with one sharp look, it was deterred with a nervous giggle. "Oh, don't be like that. Ya missed me, didn't ya?" It met his eyes again, coquettish.

"No. Don't push your luck, varmint."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (google) translations:  
> pistolero = gunslinger  
> sixième = sixth grade  
> vilain petit lutin = ugly little goblin  
> ibdagchyeo!/입 닥쳐! = shut your mouth!


	6. Negative Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the hunt leaves Amélie somewhat shaken, to the point she makes a decision she (and Jesse and Angela) may regret later. As for Jesse himself, it leaves him changing his point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a little slow lads, i'm not gonna lie. it's a lot of dialogue! thank you for sticking with me though, I Appreciate You always!

The sun was dazzling despite the wind whipping the clouds in front of it, and caused Jesse’s eyes to narrow once he opened the door. In front of him, Dr. Ziegler fell on her behind with a yip, sporting a red face, red eyes, and red hands. She must've been trying to force the door open -- alone, he noted, rapidly shooting an admonishing look at Amélie and the older man at her side.

Angela stared up at him, unmoving, then scrambled to her feet to trap him in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, _danke den Göttern_ \-- you're alive! When Amélie was -- was expelled,” she didn't have to look back at the huntress for Jesse to know she had to watch her tongue, “and you weren't, I was sure -- that you -- you were…” She sighed heavily, a shuddering breath, and Jesse thought she was going to cry. However, her resolve proved to be stronger than her tears. He held her anyway, comfortingly, and told her everything was all right and the problem was solved.

“While this is all very touching,” Amélie interrupted, voice tainted with fresh scorn, “what did you do with the demoness? Did you exterminate it?” Her pale hazel gaze focused him, more scrutinizing than he was ready for.

He curled his lip at her, wishing she could've waited five minutes before sticking her nose where it...well...where it belonged, unfortunately.

“The demoness’s gone. Our job here’s done.” He relinquished Angela, who then tightened her ponytail to keep her hands busy.

Amélie’s brows beetled, the expression of disbelief the first emotion she’d shown the entire time. Wordlessly, she strode past him and the doctor, one of her elegant legs kicking open the cracked door before she leaned in. She glanced inside, a necessary precaution, before disappearing into the house.

Angela tugged at Jesse’s hem. “What did you do? That fight -- you couldn't have done that by yourself.” She looked worried, but Jesse knew there was suspicion lurking behind her clear, sapphire stare.

“Well, I --” Should he tell her, at least partly? She wouldn't react well, but maybe her edges would be softened by the fact the imp literally saved his hide -- something he hated admitting, even to himself. What else could he tell her? She’d never believe he’d disposed of a soldier hellspawn on his own. “Remember that imp from before…?”

Her gaze instantly hardened.

Jesse continued. “Well, ah, he actually helped me out. Told the demoness somethin’ ‘n’ she just...went.”

Angela smiled dryly, looking back at a lost Mr. Pierce. “Isn’t that all too familiar.”

It was obvious that the blonde medic was displeased, but any other excuses Jesse could’ve flung were silenced when Amélie reappeared, stiff as a board. She regarded him for a moment, then, wetting her lips, “It seems Mr. McCree speaks the truth. The demoness is gone and not so much as a trace is left of it.” Her words were strangled, as though they sliced her throat with their razorblade honesty.

Jesse smiled smugly at her.

“O-oh, thank you,” Mr. Pierce cried, then dug into his pockets for the money. “Um...who should I give this to?” He held up a couple thick wads of green.

Amélie was distant. “Them.” She gave no further explanation. Her form was so upright it made Jesse’s back hurt.

He had to wonder -- if she wasn’t after money, what could be her motivation? Every hunter had their own drive, but it was uncommon for that drive to be something other than profit. Was she trying to prove something? If so, to who?

He received the money and endless thanks from Mr. Pierce, both of which he took gladly. Jesse was never a man afraid to feed his own ego -- a client’s praise was part of the payment, in his opinion. He never said that, but it was a normal reaction people had to him cleansing their home, their loved ones, or even themselves of demonic attachments.

His truck beckoned him. He had places to be, people to see, other jobs to take. This one was completed, however botchedly, and was just another record Angela would take.

Thinking of her bothered him. How would he ever explain _any_ of what had happened?

As if his thoughts summoned her, the doctor’s small hand landed on his shoulder. “Jesse, what about Amélie?”

“What about her?” Jesse returned, meeting his shorter friend’s gaze.

Angela’s eyebrows creased. “I don’t think she has a ride, much less a place to go.”

McCree scowled deeper than his usual expression allowed. “How don’t she have a ride? How’d she get here? Better yet, how’s that our problem?”

The Swiss doctor’s lips thinned before she said, “I believe she came here with Mr. Pierce. But I don’t think she wants to ask more of him.”

“Always were a compassionate one. ‘Specially for people that did nothin’ for ya.” Jesse took out a cigar.

He didn’t have time to even cut it before Angela’s scalding response smacked him full in the face. “Ironic. A hunter with a softer spot for the hellspawn he hunts than those he hunts them with.”

His offense must’ve been apparent, because Angela gained a valiant look. His jaw unhinged to argue, but she cut him off with a note of superiority.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see if Amélie would like us to drive her somewhere -- or even _join_ _us_ for awhile. We could always use more help.”

Nasty words were on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back, screwing his nose up at their sour taste. _Dammit._

He watched Angela mosey over to the taller woman, saying something that the wind snatched away from earshot. Amélie had lit a cigarette at some point; Jesse figured Angela would’ve been deterred, but the medic was unfazed, as if she hadn’t noticed at all. He bit the end of his own unlit cigar, irked.

About ten minutes passed, and the two were still talking. Jesse got impatient enough to make a break for the truck, settling down inside and turning on the heat. A scintilla of a hateful urge hit him -- start the truck and roll away, leave the two to their own business. He physically shook his head, snorting quietly. Angela wouldn’t be so self-righteous then, would she?

“What’cha thinkin’ about?”

Jesse jumped, gawking over at the passenger seat. Jamie leaned on the armrest, holding his head up in a clawed hand. Looking as bastardized as ever.

“Get outta here! You’re gonna be seen!” Jesse sat up and stared out the windshield to where the women stood, backs to the truck. He glared at Jamie. “See that pale lady? She ain’t gonna hesitate to send ya where you’ll never see Hell -- not to mention the Overworld -- ever again. So I suggest you get lost before she --”

“You worry ‘bout other people too much, cowpoke,” Jamie said, sitting up and crossing its arms. Its wings were folded behind its back, pressed against the seat; Jesse had to think how cramped the interior of the truck was. All the more reason for Jamie to melt back into its shade form, or whatever forbidden shadow magic bullshit that it performed, instead of sitting there blabbing.

“No,” Jesse grated, “it’s ‘cause I got a lot to lose here!”

Jamie’s brows bounced as it blushed. Probably voluntarily, Jesse forced himself to remember. “Aw, you’re a lot sweeter than ya let off, love. I didn’t know ya cared that much.” Its tail curled up daintily at its side.

“Huh?” He realized what the imp meant the moment he opened his mouth. “Oh, you little -- no, _shit_ no. I meant my own reputation, ya hear? You’re gonna ruin me.”

Jamie wheezed, snorting through its pointed nose. It opened its mouth to say something, but was wise enough to shut its trap and bite its lip instead.

Jesse didn’t understand what was so funny, nor why the batty thing thought that was an appropriate thing to say. Was it trying to embarrass him?

He sat back and pulled his hat low, muttering unsavory language. Jamie didn’t let the quiet last long.

It slid under Jesse’s gaze, leaning across his lap, face-up. Jesse, exposing his teeth, savagely flicked its freckled nose, metal finger on soft cartilage, in the most pettily aggressive action he’d ever taken against anyone.

Jamie hissed and covered its nose, but didn’t remove itself and instead fixed Jesse with a molten glare. “You dirty fucker.” Jamie reached up and took Jesse’s hat, tossing it on the floor of the truck with a snarl. “I oughta eat your eyes.”

“What? Y’know what, nevermind. Fuck off,” Jesse snapped, glancing back up. Angela and Amélie were still talking. _Gods._ He met Jamie’s eyes again. “I oughta send you into a pit even _you_ can’t weasel your way out of.”

“Oblivion?” Jamie guessed, too chipper for Jesse’s liking.

Jesse nodded, trying to look grave. It didn’t work.

Jamie reached up again, this time touching Jesse’s hair. “This’s nice. What conditioner do ya use?”

Jesse tugged his head back, but his hair was too long. Jamie gave it a quick tug. The hunter growled aloud, seeing red, and, in a split second, was shoving the imp away.

And the imp, of course, shoved back with a dark snicker. “Why so serious, Jess?”

“Don’t call me that, ya snivelin’ little prick,” Jesse spat, adjusting so he could put his body weight into his push.

“I thought we were even!” Jamie shoved him back, harder than before. Less playful, more dangerous. Exactly what Jesse wanted. “You said we were friends!”

“I said it ‘cause that damn soldier would’a ground me to a pulp. I ain’t your friend! Why’re you so obsessed?” He pushed it. It faltered.

“‘Cause,” it returned, “I like you! You said you liked me! Did you fuckin’ lie, mate?” It pushed him. He faltered.

“Just ‘cause I said that didn’t mean you had permission to follow me! It don’t mean your fat friend was allowed to attach himself to Angela!” He grabbed its biceps and surged forward, trying to finally shove it over.

Jamie wouldn’t go down so easily. “So that’s it! This’s about her, isn’t it?”

“Actually, yeah, it is! She had nothin’ to do with it ‘til the two of ya got her involved.” He stared up at its horns. Tempting.

Jamie tried to flap its wings, but the confined space didn’t even leave it room to spread them halfway. Jesse caught the moment of panic in its eyes, the realization it was outmatched and likely to face unwanted repercussions it had coming ever since that day in the church. Suddenly, it took in a sharp gasp. “Jess, they're coming!”

Jesse looked out, panicking. He could already feel Amélie’s degrading split second of shock turned villainous, Angela’s look of ashamed fury as the sniping huntress discovered their secret --

He was knocked back against the door of the truck, the breath forced from his lungs and the back of his head hitting dully against the window. For a few head-splitting moments, he was confused what was happening and who was doing it, his vision blurring so bad he could hardly see. Then he caught his breath, regained his vision, retrieved his memory -- and found himself facing the canid teeth of the imp, breathing hard, flushed, victorious.

Jesse must’ve hit his head harder than he assumed, because, in that moment, he had something of an impure thought about the entity pinning him to the truck door, a mental image of a hotel bed and grappling hands and something disgustingly sweet. What kind of thought process was that? He couldn’t meet the thing’s eyes. _Sick. That was_ sick _._

Jamie, after a few beats, let out a breathless giggle, suddenly looking bashful. “W-well, guess that answers that question.”

Jesse didn’t know what “question” it was referring to.

“Y’know, you’re awfully hateful.” It plucked at a stray thread in Jesse’s trenchcoat, pulling away some of its weight. Jesse shifted, face hot, and put his hand on the imp’s bare chest to push it off. He was glad when it obliged without further hassle.

“You’re gonna face the doctor with me when we tell her the truth,” Jesse decided out loud, staring out the window at his friend and confidant, so absorbed with whatever she was discussing with the snotty huntress.

Jamie’s gaze landed on him again, acquiescent. “When’s that gonna be?”

“I don’t know.” He let their eyes meet again. Jamie looked nearly shy, a far cry from its usual cocky, erratic nature. The air between them was awkward and charged with something akin to sexual tension, but Jesse refused to believe that’s what it was.

“I don’t...really understand why this whole friendship thing’s so important to you,” Jesse admitted, voice a muddled mutter, “but...I guess it don’t hurt to acknowledge it. We got _somethin’_ goin’ on here, unfortunately. And...I-I guess it’s better if you’re, uh...if you're with me, rather than against me.” He rubbed the back of his head. “You hit like a semi.”

Jamie snorted softly. “I'll take that as a compliment.” It fiddled with its tail tuft, probably thinking. The thick awkwardness thinned into something more amiable, something a little more comfortable, something...Jesse might have wanted to have again. But he wouldn't let himself have it; he hammered himself with the fact this was an imp, it was a creation of Satan, it wanted to maim and torture and breed chaos.

Except it didn't look that way. Not one bit. It looked like a lonely creature that was demoted and shamed by its brethren, a desperate beast searching for some kind of comfort in the Overworld. It was an imp. An overall harmless, but still very annoying imp.

And it proved itself to be useful. That was the most important part.

Maybe he could convince Angela that it was worth keeping around. If only its demonic friend wasn't attached to her -- to get rid of it, they would need to perform an exorcism, and that meant telling its host the truth. He wasn't sure how to approach her with that.

He felt warm fingers slide over his arm, right at the wrist. Jesse shot a glare at the imp, who flinched, but didn't remove its hand. “You was spacin’ out, mate. Somethin’ botherin’ ya?”

“Yeah,” Jesse grumbled, “you.”

Jamie grinned, though it was noticeably more forlorn that the usual one. “Ain't you sweet. Is it the bird?”

It meant Angela. Jesse hesitantly nodded.

Jamie shrugged. “We'll figure out somethin’, cowpoke, no worries. And if we don’t, well, _I'll_ just be your best friend.” It smiled at him affectionately. Jesse smiled back, despite his common sense telling him not to.

“You ain't gonna rest 'til we're two peas in a pod, will ya?” he asked, studying his cigar, which he’d abandoned setting alight, before looking back at the imp.

Jamie winked, saying nothing more on the subject, then nodded to the cigar. “Ya need a light?”

Jesse glanced at it again. “Oh, yeah, I was gonna --”

The imp snatched it and held it under its nose a moment, sniffing it, and it seemed it was going to pull the same thing it had in the church. Jesse was about to tear into it, especially when it bit the cap off, but stopped when he saw it exhale harshly on the thick roll, expelling a bout of flame from its nose. The cigar caught fire and smoldered placidly.

Jamie handed it back to Jesse with a helpful grin. He took it, grimacing. “Gee, thanks, Jamie.”

“Not a problem.” It glanced outside. “Ah, this time they're comin’ for real. See ya on the flip side, Jess.” It waved the fingers of its free hand while the other gave Jesse’s wrist a short squeeze. Then it disappeared into the shadow-infested backseat.

Jesse sighed, barely getting a moment to think before having to pick up his hat from the floor to face Angela.

The doctor tugged open the passenger side door and let herself in. Behind her, Amélie stalked closely, eyeing the interior of the truck with what Jesse assumed was disdain. Then, she gradually let herself settle into the backseat, her legs crossing.

“Jesse, why is this seat w--” Angela stopped herself, shaking her head. “Ah, nevermind. Amélie has agreed to come with us for awhile. She says she can even pay for our rooms or food if we ever need it! Isn't she the nicest?”

Jesse’s brows lifted slightly. “Uh, sure.” _Wonder what you've got up your sleeve, little miss huntress. Can't be nothin’ good,_ he thought, bitter, and started the truck. “Where’re we headed?”

Amélie’s cool voice slithered from the backseat. “I am heading to northern Montana. I don't know about the two of you.”

Angela clapped her hands together. “Oh, perfect! Do you know of a job we can take there?”

Jesse didn't even get so much as a say.

“Yes, perhaps several. If Mr. McCree is as good of a hunter as he displayed today, any hunts we take will be done within an hour.” She pulled her ponytail free, letting her thick, black locks fall down her back and around her face. She leaned her head back and tossed the velvety curtain behind her, pulling her fingers through it a time or two.

Jesse stopped watching her through the rearview abruptly. Angela, on the other hand, was transfixed.

“Your -- your hair is very healthy, madame,” she commented, her voice somewhat choked.

Amélie smiled her mysterious smile. “I take very good care of it, doctor. _Une bonne hygiène est rare ces jours-ci._ ” She stared at Jesse composedly, lips quirked.

Such was the ways of the French, he supposed. Never able to insult you up-front, nor in a language you could understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (google) translations:  
> danke den göttern = thank the gods  
> une bonne hygiène est rare ces jours-ci = good hygiene is rare these days


	7. God-Given Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is dark and full of monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see lads! i hope you had happy holidays and/or a merry christmas!
> 
> this chapter got a little long and focuses on, ah, building relationships. i had a lot i wanted to add (maybe a bit too quickly) but, c'mon, we're seven chapters in and have to start sometime, right? I Appreciate You all and hope you enjoy 3,476 words of exposition B^)

“ _Pistolero_.”

Jesse met her vampiric eyes.

“You are hiding something from me, aren't you?”

He shook his head, his mouth sewn shut, dry from being closed for so long.

“You are a liar, Jesse.” Her red-tinted lips curled at the corners, regarding him as if he was a small child. “I will find out. Whatever you did with the demoness, I will discover it.”

He swore he saw blood in her teeth when she spoke, glistening on the minute flash of sharpened fangs. He swallowed roughly, wishing away the sand he kept choking back.

“Now, I will allow you another chance to tell me what you know.” The dark figure’s hands were pale in the light that bore down on him, reaching to him as though offering peace. If only she was so benign; he knew something was wrong with her from the start. Why hadn't he listened to his instincts?

“What are you hiding? What do you know that I do not?”

He was suddenly able to open his mouth, but his cracked lips stung. Blood leaked from the cracks, and, to him, it was spurting out, pouring with the velocity of a waterfall.

But, in reality, it was only dribbling. He kept telling himself that.

“I don't,” he paused to swallow again; he realized, dully, that the flickering light by his head was what was killing him, “know anything.”

Her yellow eyes widened, shock and fury sending them ablaze. “You are a liar, Jesse!” she repeated, but the voice she used was Angela’s.

One of the ghostly pale hands took a fistful of his hair and ripped him forward, forcing tears into his eyes. “You see what I've become,” Angela hissed, her breath smelling of night phlox. “You know what's going to happen. If you don't tell me now, things will never be the same.”

Jesse squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing. “There's -- there's nothin’ wrong with you, doc! What're you on about?”

“She deserves better than you.”

Jesse tried to tug his head back from Angela’s impossibly strong grasp, but she had his hair tangled around her hand so tightly he would have to cut it to get out. He strained to look past her, though he already knew who it was that spoke.

Jamie was feline in the way it stalked in the rafters. Its wings were spread threateningly, and, below it, its bleeding accomplice stood like a stone statue. Nearby, the Destroyer clicked around on its spindly legs, showing off its serrated, multi-layered teeth and eerily buzzing wings.

And even behind them, more silhouettes danced. More demons. More soldiers. Something with two heads and a dragon’s body. Something humanoid, yet made of stalagmites and chaos. Something jet black and skeletal.

“Only the gods can save us now,” Angela whispered solemnly, far away and inside some glass coffin that he couldn't reach in a hundred years.

Jesse jerked awake, sucking in a sharp breath that hurt his sore throat. He coughed harshly, his nightmare focusing in the front of his mind.

He couldn't keep on like this.

He had to get rid of them. All of them. The imp, the demon, the soldier -- they all had to go.

He went to the bathroom to splash water on his face, hoping it would clear his head. When he looked into the mirror, D.Va the Destroyer was behind him, wearing a distraught look on its face.

“That was a bad one, wasn't it?” It tried to touch his shoulder. He jerked away.

“I dunno why I let y’all torture me like this,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “I dunno why I let that imp stay with me. I dunno why I let his friend stick itself to Angie.”

D.Va crossed its arms. The motel bathroom was small enough as it was, but with a ten foot tall soldier demoness occupying nearly ¾ of the space, Jesse was practically standing in the shower. “I pity you, I really do. Imps are good for no one.”

He scowled. “You can act like you give a shit all you want. You don't really. Ya just mock me. You're a...a…” He didn't want to say “liar,” not so soon after the dream.

D.Va smiled playfully. “Not really! You were nice to me, in a weird, tsundere kinda way. I want to be nice back!”

He didn't ask what the hell it meant. He shouldered past it, suppressing a shudder as he brushed its carapace. It somehow turned around and followed him. “You can tell me about it. What happened?”

He got back into bed and threw the covers over himself, curling up and shoving his face in the pillow. A hefty weight pulled down the mattress beside him. D.Va made itself comfortable, despite not having enough room for a quarter of its back end. He sighed; it tapped his head lightly with obsidian claws. “ _Sanyangkkun_.”

He didn't answer. It tapped his head again.

“I want to help you, silly,” the demoness squeaked, adjusting its crustaceous legs.

“You can help,” Jesse growled, “by fuckin’ off.”

The Destroyer huffed, but said nothing more. Its body was warm and even comforting, something akin to a sun-drenched rock in spring. He got the sense it truly did want to help -- but that was only a trick of the mind, he was sure. A hellspawn, no matter the rank, was a master of manipulation, and he refused to be swayed by even the strongest of them.

 _Ironic,_ a tiny voice said in the recesses of his mind, _you let yourself be manipulated by the imp every day._

It stung him. He screwed his eyes shut harder and grimaced.

D.Va must've been watching him, because it spoke up again. “Something is still bothering you. I can get Jamie, if you want.” It almost sounded begrudging.

“Why’re you still here?” he spat, tiring of the demoness's prodding. “Ah, that's right -- I can't get rid of ya, 'cause if I tried, ya’d kill me.”

The Destroyer paused. When it spoke again, it sounded aggrieved. “That’s the only reason you let me come? Because you thought I would hurt you?” A sour laugh followed. “Humans just love to throw everything and everyone into some kind of profile, don't they? You might not believe it, but each hellspawn has their own feelings and motives. Some of us want to be aggressive and bloodthirsty, yeah, but not all of us. Haven't you learned anything from Jamie and Mako? From me? How dense can you be?”

Jesse sat up to face it. “Jamie keeps sayin’ the same shit. I don't believe it. You were created to cause chaos and take over the ‘Overworld,’ as ya call it. How could ya ever deviate from that?”

D.Va snorted, amused at his ignorance. “Well, take humans, for example. Why were you created? Do you think all of you follow that?”

Jesse halted. “Oh, well...that depends on who ya ask. ...Religion ’n’ all that, y’know…”

“So you _are_ all different!” The Destroyer grinned. “If you need even more proof, look at yourself. What other hunters would even _talk_ to demons, let alone be nice to them?”

Jesse glared at it. Did it have to make actually valid points? Did it have to bring up his own standing, which he felt endlessly guilty for, to use against him?

“Anyways, hellspawn might’ve been made for a specific reason, but, in this day and age, we've either forgotten or purposely ignore it. In fact, coming to the Overworld probably demoted me. I’m supposed to be in Hell at all times.” It shrugged, its amber wings flitting, and pulled its hair behind its ear. “That's okay, I guess. As long as I'm not an imp, I'll be happy!”

Jesse bit the inside of his cheek. “S’pose you make a good point.” He didn't want to admit it, but the demoness persuaded him. None of the hellspawn he’d encountered since meeting Jamie had had malicious intentions for him -- and, now that he thought about it, some demons he'd hunted in the past hadn't even attacked first.

“I heard what you said to Jamie yesterday,” D.Va continued. “If you want, I can talk to...um...what's her name again?”

“Angela.”

“I can talk to Angela for you.” D.Va reached down and plucked at his hair, twirling it vacantly around her fingers.

Jesse smiled, though the slight tugs on his scalp brought back memories of his nightmare and sent chills down his spine. “That's...huh. That's mighty kind of ya, but I don't feel like that's a very good idea.” He closed his eyes momentarily. “She don't even know you're with us.”

“Hm.” The soldier twisted his hair slowly, careful not to pull too hard. Her pointed claws were gentle as she styled and fixed and restyled it, before, eventually, she released the man’s hair, letting a new braid fall onto his back.

She took a few new strands and began braiding them, too, saying, “What do you think of the _yeoja sanyangkkun_? Angela seems to like her a lot.”

She meant Amélie, McCree thought. “She's up to somethin’. I don't trust her.”

“Oh, me neither!” She jerked his hair as she curled her fists; he growled a warning and she loosened her grip, snickering. “Aha, _joesong haeyo_. She wants something. Seeks something…”

“You know what?” he asked the hellspawn, annoyed at the urgency in his voice.

D.Va shook her head. “No. But maybe Jamie can find out with his shadow stuff.”

Jesse nodded thoughtfully, feeling another braid hit his shoulder. “Where's he at?”

The demoness glanced around the room, narrowing her eyes to pierce the nightly pall. She couldn't find him there, apparently, because she snarled for him -- quite literally. Jesse jumped; she giggled.

“When a lower class hellspawn hears a soldier calling for them like that, they know to get their ass moving,” she explained, simpering, scouring the shadows once more.

Jesse watched a pile of darkness morph and turn darker than that surrounding it, then slowly hatch into the imp he knew so well. Jamie’s hands instantly grasped at each other, his expression nervous and his back hunched. “Y-yeah? Ya called?”

The Destroyer motioned beneath her to Jesse. “We had an idea. Something involving you.”

Jamie gained an suspicious look, his gaze sliding to Jesse, who sat pliantly beside the demoness. “What's she on about, cowpoke?”

Jesse stood and went to him, his arms crossed. He felt awkward when he said, “I gotta ask a favor of ya.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes, catlike pupils constricted. “Ya want somethin’, do ya? What do I get in return?”

Jesse was taken aback. “Hey, don't you owe  _me_?”

Jamie snorted and grinned. “Oh, not anymore. Said so yourself. Nice try, Jess.” He leaned closer, putting his hands on his hips. “So what're ya gonna give me?”

“Um…” Jesse flushed red, knowing the shadows couldn't hide him from the imp’s night vision. He looked elsewhere, half-covering his face with his hand under the pretense of thinking. “Huh. W-well...what do ya want?”

“Hmm…,” Jamie drawled, leaning sideways so he could try to catch Jesse’s eye. He wore a vile grin, letting Jesse know he _knew_ , the son of a bitch, he _knew_ he flustered him. His tail curled around McCree’s leg, a flirty gesture that made a scowl break out across the demon hunter’s face.

“Hey, now -- !”

“Depends on the request, I think,” Jamie interrupted. “What do ya want me to do?” He stuck his tongue between his teeth, a slick, black outline that made his white fangs stand out sharply.

D.Va stiffly cleared her throat behind them. “This seems like something between, um, the two of you. I'll be back, uh, later.” At that, she was gone.

Leaving Jesse alone. With the imp. And his wolf teeth. And his pretty magma eyes.

“You, er, you gotta, um,” Jesse stuttered. He grumbled and restarted; he had to be more assertive. “You gotta find out what, uh, what the huntress is up to. Amélie.” He pulled his leg free from the imp’s tail. “Find out what she wants. From me. And, ah, the doctor.”

Jamie nodded. “How d’ya figure I'll do that?”

Jesse noticed the hellspawn was gradually inching closer, bringing himself within mere centimeters of his human quarry. McCree scowled and stepped back. “Just, I dunno, do the shadow thing. Follow her for awhile.”

Jamie pouted, his tail flicking. “The shadow thing, eh? What if I don't wanna follow her? What if I wanna keep followin’ you?”

Jesse huffed in annoyance, stepping back again as he saw the imp get closer. “Don't be difficult, now.” He waited for Jamie to make a move to come forward before putting a hand on his chest, ignoring the taut muscle. _Don't you dare get flustered now, ya stupid douche…!_ he told himself, frowning at his burning cheeks and hot head.

“Okay, okay, I'll do it for you,” Jamie concurred, backing off, finally catching the memo. He stretched his wings and prepared to dip into the shadows.

Jesse caught his wrist. “What're you gonna want from me?” he blurted, and instantly wanted to beat himself over the head for opening his treacherous mouth.

Jamie grinned roguishly, eyes shining orange in the black room. “Eager, are ya, hunter?”

Jesse shook his head, releasing the imp almost disgustedly. “Hell no. I was just -- just wonderin’ --”

“Ah, right, right. Well...it all depends on how long I gotta follow her. And what I gotta see,” the imp responded slyly. Jesse whacked his arm.

“Don't get yourself caught. Come back tomorrow evenin’.” The hunter put his hand on his hip. “I might have to send ya again if ya don't get much.”

The creature curled his lip and gave an eye-roll. “Gets any worse, you're gonna owe me a blo--”

“Get goin’,” Jesse said, pushing the imp toward the door. “She’s probably asleep now, meanin’ you got a good opportunity to get in without her noticin’. Do me proud, demon.” His hand lingered a little too long on Jamie's shoulder; their shared glance felt interminable. It was just dark brown meeting gold and orange and red, both gazes just as fiery and ambitious as the other. Jesse’s blood rushed in his ears, the dull thud of his heart sounding thunderous in the snippet of silence.

Then Jamie grinned wide again, giggling as if Jesse was tickling him. “You're weird, hunter. I like it.”

Jesse nodded dumbly, wondering if nothing was the right answer to that. He officially took his hands off the imp, letting him go once and for all -- or until the next night. Whichever came first.

Jamie waggled his fingers farewell; Jesse imagined him turning russety. And then he vanished, so fast McCree’s eyes had to adjust to his absence.

 _Stupid imp,_ he thought to himself, wearing an idiotic smile that would make him seem right at home wearing a dunce cap.

**×××**

The next day was unremarkable. Jesse enjoyed it. Amélie was mostly quiet, despite Angela’s attempts to draw small talk out of her. It didn't work well. They ate at some higher-class restaurant, their “guest” denying their offer of the fast food they usually settled for. Thankfully she paid for it (which Angela ate up better than the food), so Jesse didn't need to worry about the $95 meal he shoved so courteously into his face.

When evening rolled around, Jesse said goodnight to Angela and went to his room. The hotel they'd picked was fairly decent; Jesse wouldn't mind staying there longer. However, Amélie seemed anxious to keep moving. They, apparently, had no time for enjoying themselves.

He was slurping down coffee when the imp slithered into view again, somewhere between 8:30 and 9:00 at night. Instantly, he got a questioning look from him, his eyes on the coffee cup.

“What? Never seen this either?” He held up the piece of ceramic, but was quick to pull it back to himself in case the hellspawn fancied taking a chug of it -- or, better yet, taking off a chunk of the cup itself.

Jamie put on a thin-lipped smile. “Nah, it's just that most people drink it in the mornin’ and not before bed.”

“Oh, so you're the people expert now that you've stalked two of us, huh?” Jesse quirked a brow and leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking underneath him.

Jamie mocked him quietly, butchering his accent completely, then asked, “So ya wanna know what I got or what?”

“Yeah, lay it on me.” McCree flicked off the TV, which he hadn't been watching anyway. He hoped whatever the imp had to say was important -- though, as always, he had the creeping suspicion that he wasn't going to be totally honest with him.

Jamie sat in front of him, staring up at him like a child about to listen to a story of his grandfather’s. “Well, I learned she's got a thing for wine. Like, a lot. Red.”

“Okay.” _What's that matter?_ “What else?”

“She don't sleep a lot. Tosses 'n’ turns when she tries. And she likes to do squats, which is why she's got such a big --”

“None of this's important,” Jesse snapped. “I need to know what she's plannin’. She can't be runnin’ with us for the giggles of it.” He tapped impatiently on the arm of the chair, his prosthetic fingers stiff.

Jamie lifted his hands exasperatedly. “What do ya want me to do, cowpoke? I'm watchin’ her, just like ya asked. Unless she does it on her own, I ain't gonna see it.” He stood up, becoming too antsy to sit still any longer.

Jesse watched him pace for a while before muttering, intending only himself to hear, “Maybe I should just ask.”

“That might be a good idea. Ya must be a genius to come up with that one,” Jamie sneered. Jesse gave him a look that could melt steel.

The gunslinger sighed. “I guess that's what I'll do. Thanks for your help, I guess.” He took a sip of the bitter, nearly black liquid, thinking he should've added more sugar.

“Hey.”

He looked up. Jamie loomed over him, similar to the first time they met. Was it really only two weeks ago? Whatever; he was just as unthreatening and even laughable as he was then.

“What?” He met his gaze evenly (or tried to, at least).

“Y’still owe me,” the hellspawn crooned, focusing him with half-lidded, malicious eyes. He traced a claw around the rim of the cup.

“You didn't do nothin', though,” Jesse fired back, getting defensive. What right did he think he had?

Jamie leaned closer, close enough that Jesse could feel his hot breath on his face. “Oh, contraire. I followed the Frenchie like ya wanted, and now ya can't back out of our deal. No cheatin’.” He winked. “That's what I do.”

Jesse smirked, ignoring the burning of his cheeks right then. “Sounds promisin’.” He was somewhat peeved at the imp’s directness -- his flirting, his self-importance, his gall -- but then again, he found it somehow attractive. Was that the right word? He didn't want it to be, but he was afraid that was the only way to describe it.

He glanced away, covering his smile with his hand. Jamie pulled it away, sniggering cunningly. “How 'bout a peck on the cheek?” he asked. Jesse got the sense he didn't mean to let that slip -- especially when he followed up with, “N-nothin’ too serious, o’course. Just somethin’ perfectly friendly.”

Jesse’s brows arched. “Friendly, ya say? That's your definition of friendly?”

Jamie looked away and spoke quickly. “Er, yeah. What's wrong with two blokes givin’ each other a kiss on the cheek?”

“Hm. When ya put it that way, I can see your point.” Jesse glanced at his coffee cup, wondering how Angela would react to the... _intimacy_ he was suddenly sharing with the demonic vessel. She would probably break all ties with him. He wouldn't blame her.

He glanced back up again. It was hard to believe how much his opinions had changed since the whole mess started -- he once thought demons were all vengeful entities with an unending desire for mortal blood, and he once thought imps were harmless apart from the occasional stupid trick they would pull.

But imps were dangerous in a whole other right. They were sneaky and charming and thick-skulled, yet endearing. They got under your skin and made you blush; they took up your thoughts at the most inappropriate times in the most inappropriate ways and left you questioning your own beliefs. They were oddly attractive, despite their red skin and nicked wings and dagger-sharp talons.

And they were surprisingly fun to kiss -- on the cheek, of course. Jesse didn't have one thought about kissing them -- him -- on the lips.

Not one at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (google) translations:  
> pistolero = gunslinger  
> sanyangkkun/사냥꾼 = hunter  
> yeoja sanyangkkun/여자 사냥꾼 = huntress  
> joesong haeyo/죄송 해요 = i'm sorry  
> what's wrong with two blokes givin' each other a kiss on the cheek? = no homo


	8. Cherry Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes danger lives right next door. Sometimes, it tells your best friend something she didn't want to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a month later and ya boy bt is back at it again with some more of amélie's pov. this chapter was...strange to write. seems i can't make a damn thing without some kinda angst, can i? either way i hope y'all like it, I Appreciate You always

Voices, in the room beside hers. She recognized that of the hunter, McCree; his American drawl and smoke-cured mutter was unpleasant on the ears. Her brows knit against it. Amélie didn't care about him. She wanted to know who  _else_  was speaking.

Another man. Younger, higher-pitched, scratchier. Frantic, at times, then suddenly calm again. At first, she thought he had an English accent, but felt a bit foolish once she realized it was Australian.

Who was it? Amélie had never heard the voice before. Of course, she'd only been with the airy doctor and her greasy friend for two days -- she couldn't possibly know who all they had connections to, nor how many of their friends were around at any given time. But it was disconcerting, even to her, that she had never heard the young man before. She wondered how often she'd seen him, exchanged a glance with him, while he was in secret dealings with the hunter she traveled with.

She knew the boy had to be there in the room with Jesse, as his voice lacked the boxiness of being trapped in a phone's speaker. That meant Jesse allowed him in -- but that was odd, considering she never heard his door open since he got there. Perhaps she needed to pay more attention...

Her curiosity got the better of her. She realized, as she pushed her ear to the wall, that she knew next to nothing about the strange hunter she rode with. Not only was this unwise, but it was dangerous, as well. She didn't know what kind of personal vendettas people could have against her. She didn't know who could be watching her.

 _"Unless she does it on her own, I ain't gonna see it,"_  said the unknown man, his words moving as though he was pacing.

There was a short silence. Then, the same man spoke again.

_"That might be a good idea. Ya must be a genius to come up with that one."_

The silence, apparently, wasn't a silence at all -- McCree must've replied too quietly for her to hear.

Amélie listened in until their voices got too low for her to pick up, ending with Jesse saying the other "didn't do nothin'." She cursed under her breath. What were they up to? Did it involve her and she didn't even know it?

She continued to listen to their muttering, her brows beetled, her expression a soft grimace. So far, her eavesdropping had proved nothing except her own nosiness. At least she was alone...as far as she knew.

She had the thought to check her room for bugs, but decided it was physically impossible for any devices to be listening in on her. No one had been in her room except Amélie herself, and both her new "accomplices" had been in her sight the entire day. She was being paranoid.

Finally, Jesse's voice came back through the lily-white wall, somehow...gentler. As though he was talking to someone he'd known for a long time, instead of someone who was just a means to an end.  _"Y'know...I think I might get used to that."_

Amélie narrowed her eyes, glaring at the hotel bed.

 _"Don't think me rude for_ _sayin_ _' I hope ya do,"_  responded the other man, giggling impishly.

She realized they must have been -- ugh -- flirting. How immature. Didn't they know coworkers should stay just that -- coworkers?

 _"So...,"_  McCree continued,  _"she asleep?"_

_"Think so."_

_"Ya said she don't sleep well. You sure?"_

Knocking at her door nearly made Amélie's heart leap. She stepped away from the wall, frowning, the threads of her mind still clinging to the intimate conversation between the hunter and the faceless man. Who was the woman they referred to? Who was the unseen man watching?

She couldn't think of it being anyone but herself.

The disturbance vexed her, it truly did. It wasn't often that she let things get to her, but -- seriously? Someone had to bother her right when her nosing started paying off? She was tempted to go to the door and tell whoever it was that she had more important things to tend to -- but that would just be pitiful.

She hesitantly drew herself away from her eavesdropping and ambled to the door, a little hopeful that the person would get impatient and go away. Unfortunately, the sniper wasn't so lucky -- the person, as it turned out, was the ever-chipper Dr. Ziegler, her cheeks dusted pink and a bundle in her hands.

Roses. A bouquet of them.

Amélie stared knives into the woman before her. Out of all times, she decided to start courting in that moment; absolutely unfortunate, yet still...charming.

" _G-_ _guten_ _abend_ , Amélie," the doctor stuttered, uncertainly offering the flowers. "I, ah, I got these for you."

 _An old-fashioned romantic. How rare in these times,_  Amélie thought emptily. "Very nice of you, doctor." She took the bouquet and studied the blooms. They were a deep, rich red, the color of romance and blood. Interesting how closely those two things could mingle.

Her eyes flitted back up to the blonde, her pallid lips barely smiling. "Very forward of you, as well," she said. "How can you be sure that I am even attracted to women?"

Dr. Ziegler's pink hue deepened, her entire face flushing. "Oh, I -- I -- I didn't mean --"

"Well, I certainly can't turn you away now, can I?" Amélie rebutted, telling both the doctor and herself at the same time. "Please, come in. Do you prefer white or red?"

Dr. Ziegler bit her lip. "U-um, it doesn't matter..." She stepped in tentatively, her bright blue eyes darting around the room.

As Amélie watched the medic's timid entrance, she hatched an idea. If anyone could tell her what (and why) McCree was plotting against her, it would be Dr. Ziegler. She simply needed to get her to talk.

The task would be simple enough. They sat and shared wine for a while, the alcohol gradually loosening the doctor's ruby-colored lips. Amélie was surprised how easily Angela talked after a couple glasses; she was always so cautious, so hidden behind false smiles and small talk. It was strange to see her...vulnerable, for lack of a better word, even though she hadn't even known her for a week. Before long, Amélie saw it fitting to start the inquiries, her high alcohol tolerance keeping her head clear.

"So, doctor," she began, "what is it your friend Jesse is trying to get from me?"

Angela blinked before beaming coyly, her face still rosy. "Why, whatever do you mean, Amélie?"

The huntress fixed her with her gaze. The easy amiability wore off, replaced with a pressing seriousness that sought answers and names. "You are aware he has someone watching me. I know it now; you can let go of the charade, my rose."

Angela's blush deepened once more at the pet name, but her confusion didn't ebb. "Would you, ah...explain to me...how you know?"

Amélie gave something resembling a smile, though it was infinitely more sinister. She decided she would be honest; she overheard talking in the next room and decided to investigate. "I did not mean to hear them flirting, of course. I am not seeking out drama; I couldn't care less." She swirled the dark liquid in her cup, watching as realization slowly crept onto Dr. Ziegler's peachy little face. Amélie's smile became somewhat more genuine.

Then, in a movement so quick it made the sniper jump, the blonde shot up from her seat and stormed for the door, nearly losing her balance in the process. Amélie stood to go after her, puzzled at her sudden fury, but decided it was a matter best left to the doctor and her hunter.

She would know the truth soon enough. Patience was a huntress's greatest tool.

**×××**

The imp sniffed the bourbon curiously, as he did with most things, before wrinkling his nose and giving Jesse a dirty look. "You tryin' to poison me, cowpoke?"

Jesse waved him off. "Psht, 'course not. Unless you're allergic to anything they labeled on the side'a that bottle." He smiled furtively, eyebrows arched.

Jamie narrowed his eyes. Jesse nodded toward the drink.

The imp's blackened tongue darted out and slid down into the bottle, quick as a whip. Jesse watched the prehensile appendage fill the short neck and dip down into the alcohol itself, coating the glass with a thin layer of saliva. Then it slipped back out, smooth, snakelike, dripping with amber liquid, and, finally, was gone, drawn back behind lupine fangs.

It was done fast -- so fast a blink would've missed it -- but Jesse was caught up in every last perverse nanosecond of it. Blood rushed to his head; he pulled his hat lower.

Jamie coughed, handing the bottle to Jesse. "Shit's nasty. Keep it." He wiped his mouth with the back of a cherry-red hand, nose screwed in a grimace.

The gunslinger took the bottle.  _Never_ _drinkin_ _' outta this again._

He could feel Jamie staring. "Why the red face?"

Jesse shook his head. He couldn't trust himself to hack up a good excuse.

Jamie stared some more. Then, caustically, "Oh, I get it. Go ahead, have your laugh. You're the one who's addicted to the garbage."

"Oh, uh...all right, true. Ya got me. But...ya...ya put your whole tongue in it. In the bottle," Jesse stammered, his voice moronic in his own ears.

The hellspawn looked surprised. "Was I not s'posed to?"

Just then the door to his room cracked open with a force that put thunder to shame. Jamie and Jesse skittered away from each other, the entity quite literally tripping into the shadows underneath the fridge. Jesse straightened his hat and looked to the door, wearing guilt like a second layer of clothes. Angela stood in the threshold, outlined by shadow.

"Angie, how'd ya get in?" McCree asked breathlessly, his eyes wide. "Did -- did ya  _break_  the  _door_?"

The doctor simply beckoned him forward with a stiff motion of her hand. Jesse put down the booze and obediently came toward her, apprehension -- borderline fear -- causing a nervous sweat to prickle his back. How had she managed to get in? Did she get a key card for his room without his permission? There was no way she used brute strength to bust through -- even he couldn't do that. Unless...

"Did you make friends with that demon?" he blurted, stopping dead-center in the hallway she was trying to drag him down.

She turned to him, blue fire in her eyes. "Not here, Jesse."

He caught the warning.

She faced forward and continued to the elevator; Jesse followed. They went down the shaft in silence so loud, the gunslinger was certain his head would pop -- a thoughtless balloon attached to nothing but a limp body.

He watched Angela through the corner of his eye the entire time. She stood stiffly, her arms crossed, her platinum hair in a loose ponytail. Her face was pink, her brows deeply furrowed, her lips a tight, ruddy line. He swore he caught a whiff of wine on her clothes, but the nerve-fraying elevator ride came to a juddering stop before he could investigate further. She tugged the bottom of his shirt, her pale fingers a chilly contrast against the blue flannel, and led him out of the building.

Rain had just finished falling, leaving the asphalt wet and the cars glistening with fat droplets. Angela continued dragging him on, only stopping when they reached the woods hugging the side of the parking lot. No lamplight reached them. It smelled like pines and damp blacktop and something burning far, far away.

She finally turned to him and took in a deep breath. Jesse braced himself.

"What are you trying to do with that imp?"

Her voice was stern and quiet, the question simple. It should've had a simple answer.

"Uh, I'm...uh..."

"Amélie heard you talking to it. She heard you...you... _teasing_ it. Are you that desperate?" Angela's gaze stabbed through him like wrought-iron nails. He didn't meet it.

"L-look, I..."

What could he say? He was guilty as charged. He crossed his arms, a vain attempt to hide himself. He was such an idiot for taking the room next to Amélie's! He should've known better!

Angela worried the gray sleeve of her jacket, her cuticles rough and ragged from constant picking. Despite the heavy bags under her eyes, she managed to appear threatening -- one could even say her hateful glare was enhanced by her obvious fatigue. "You must be honest, Jesse. What are you hiding? What do you know that I don't?"

McCree's blood froze. It felt as if the doctor had just shoved an icy needle into his spine, causing his dream from two nights before to rush back to him in a blinding panic. His fear must have summoned Mako, as the massive demon appeared behind Angela, heavy and bleeding and as gray as the pigeons nesting in the hotel gutters.

He gave a small wave. His presence still wasn't welcome.

Angela either didn't notice him or ignored him entirely. She was focused on Jesse alone, crushing him like a flightless beetle under her scrutiny.

"The demons ain't gonna hurt us," he muttered after a long pause, staring emptily at the slick blacktop. His jaw was stiff, stuck grinding his teeth so hard they should've cracked.

Angela stared at the brim of his hat, wearing an emotion he didn't want to see. "Where did that come from? Are you all right?"

He sensed her approaching him. He crossed his arms again so she couldn't grab onto him and make him look up, wanting to childishly avoid her gaze. "They're just curious, doc. What've they ever done to hurt us? How many times have I gone into a place and just started shootin' the moment I saw one?"

Angela's hand skirted the edge of his vision, concealed by a dark blue glove. She seemed to want to touch him, but stopped reaching halfway, either due to apprehension or stubbornness. Her clothes rustled as she shifted. "Demons didn't get their reputation for nothing, Jesse," she said gently. "They are evil entities that want to take this realm for themselves. They can't think. They can't feel."

Jesse's gaze snapped up to meet hers, suddenly angry. "But they do, doc! I've seen it." He tapped his arm with metal fingers. "Some are...really smart, in a way."

Angela looked repulsed, her softness vaporizing right before the hunter's eyes. "You aren't who you once were. You need help." She went to dart past him to go back into the hotel, her heels rapping sharply on the pavement.

Jesse stopped her, grabbing her arm a bit rougher than he intended to. His voice was trenchant as he asked, "What're you doin'?"

A strange moment passed -- he almost  _expected_  fear, though he was surprised when he saw it. Angela was always a headstrong, brave woman, and Jesse, even if he tried, couldn't scare her. But it was there, even if it disappeared in the blink of an eye, and McCree saw it. A terrible feeling made his gut sink.

"I'm going to get Amélie. She can help you before it's too late," the doctor said hurriedly. "She might even talk some sense into you afterward. Things can go back to the way they were."

Jesse loosened his grip, but was careful to keep the medic in place. "No, darlin', you don't get it. They don't wanna  _take_  the Overworld, they wanna  _see_  what's in it -- especially the soldier demons. They --"

He realized too late that he said too much. Angela's cherry blossom cheeks turned fiery, fear all but forgotten. "You enabler!  _Komplett_ _verrückt_! You took in the demoness, too!"

"N-now hold on, Angie, someone's gonna h--"

"You need help, Jesse! Can't you see what's happened to you?" The doctor tugged herself from his grasp, nearly in a panic, before taking a few cautious steps back. "I'm getting Amélie. She'll fix you. She'll get rid of the imp and the demoness and the thing that's attached to me..."

"Wait, you -- you knew?" Jesse questioned, shocked. He took a step toward her. "Why didn't you tell me, doc? I could'a explained all this so much earlier!"

Angela shook her head, backing away. "N-no, you wouldn't have. I refuse to believe you're you." At that, she turned to make a break for the front of the building, where the hotel lobby and the elevator and Amélie's vicious hazel eyes waited.

He couldn't let her go to the huntress. She would banish Mako and Jamie and infuriate the Destroyer -- all things he couldn't let happen. All things he  _refused_  to let happen, for one reason or another.

He had no choice. Sending a quick prayer to the gods that she would forgive him, he chased after Angela and grabbed onto her jacket right at the edge of the farthest lamp's light, earning a squeal from her as he tugged her back toward him. Launched into a fresh panic at the shrill sound, Jesse glanced up and, to his dismay, saw a woman and her husband getting out of their car nearby. Just his luck.

Their heads turned, seeing the struggle despite the lack of light. The man barked at Jesse to stop, stomping toward them with his wife at his heels.

If only Angela wasn't trying to kick his feet out from under him! Then maybe he could piece together an escape plan. He was glancing around worriedly, frantically trying to find a way out, when he spotted the shadows move to his left, reconstructing into bat wings and red skin. Before his eyes could adjust to the new form, the imp skittered out into the light, hissing and spreading his wings as far as they could stretch. The two pedestrians stopped dead in their tracks, stared at the snarling fangs and glinting horns for a few moments, before they ran, screaming, back to their car. The squeal of their tires as they tore through the parking lot made Jesse's head ring.

"What's goin' on?" Jamie asked, lowering his wings as he turned to face his mortal friend.

The hunter ignored him and, instead, tried to calm Angela, who was still fighting tooth and nail to get away from him. He was going to be bruised and probably bitten by the end of it, but he would never let her go. She couldn't go to Amélie.

"Honey, you gotta listen to me," he muttered, trying his hardest to keep his anger at bay, "I'm not possessed, I'm not -- ouch -- any different! I'm just...more understandin'. Please -- dammit, just listen to me! Amélie isn't gonna help us!"

Jesse's gaze met Jamie's, and the look he wore was one of confusion and even mild disgust. But he was smart enough to stay out of the way, and, for that, McCree was grateful. He'd have to explain later.

The medic in Jesse's arms eventually stopped struggling, her kicks halting all at once. She gave a shuddering sigh, an inexplicable emotion he didn't want to know making her go still. His death-grip became more of an embrace, his chin finding her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

"We don't need Amélie in on this, doc. She's just gonna make it worse."

It was as though he'd put all his weight on her shoulders. She slumped, nearly toppling them, before whispering, "It's changed you."

He tried to catch her gaze. She was vacantly watching the lights of a nearby gas station play on the pavement, and wouldn't look up.

Jesse frowned. His partner was rarely wrong, and this time proved to be no different. He only hoped she would listen, though.

"Well, that may be true -- but I think it's for the better. You just...you just gotta talk to 'em, Angie. Civilly."

She didn't respond.

"How 'bout tomorrow night we go into the woods 'n' try to get all three out?" he tried, pulling away from the silent medic. He noticed she was shivering. "I know you've talked to Mako before. He ain't all bad, is he?"

Angela continued to stare at the neon signs and moving headlights inside the puddles, living in her own little world without Jesse and all the worries he brought her. She hesitantly shook her head in response.

"Well, the rest of 'em are just like that. Er, maybe more annoyin', 'specially that one," he nodded toward Jamie, who bared his fangs in response, "but they ain't bad. And if they turn out to be, well, shame on me, I guess. It'll be my job to get rid of 'em."

Angela found the willpower to glare at him from under her bangs. "That's one thing you're goddamn right about." She pushed his arms off her and dusted her jacket disdainfully, regaining everything that made her Angela Ziegler.

He grinned, pulling her close again and squeezing her around the waist. "You'll always be the same, doc. Always have somethin' smart to say."

He couldn't see it, but he knew Angela rolled her eyes at him. She stiffly patted his hands, a begrudging reciprocation, before prying him off and starting back to the hotel. She gave Jamie a dirty, half-curious look as she passed him. The hellspawn stuck his tongue out.

Jesse trailed after Angela, listening as devilish claws clicked close behind him. "Why don't you hug me like that, mate?" Jamie muttered, tone bitter as black coffee.

Jesse smiled sidelong, suddenly euphoric. "Depends on how I'm feelin', varmint. I might one day. Hell, maybe one day we'll both get lucky enough to get what we want."

Jamie narrowed his eyes, snorting incredulously, before falling behind. Talons stopped hitting pavement as the rotating doors drew nearer, but the voice never left. It continued from somewhere below, in the shadows, a dark yet fond familiar.  _"We both ain't very lucky, cowpoke. That's how we found each other."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guten abend = good evening  
> komplett verrückt = completely insane


	9. Weary Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse and Angela learn more about hellspawn culture than they ever thought possible, and it's worse than they imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's good ol' chapter nine, three months later. thanks for being so patient with me! it was rough trying to write this one -- the muse just wouldn't come! -- but now it's finally here. i hope you all like it, I Appreciate You!

The moon had begun its descent when Jesse and Angela found a spot suitable for summoning. The pines swished docilely in the nighttime breeze, whispering eerie promises of something going wrong -- of summoning the wrong demons, of being consumed by the dark arts, of being discovered...or maybe that was just Angela that whispered those doubts. The further into the woods they went, the more she hated what they were doing, and she made as much obvious.

Jesse simply told her it would be fine. Tonight, they would solve all problems between them and then some -- whether it was through Angela changing her point of view, or by ridding themselves of the hellspawn once and for all.

The clearing was almost ethereal with how peaceful it was. The grass was silvered by moonlight, the wildflowers danced with the wind. Deer trails weaved through the thick patches. Near the middle of the field, the vegetation thinned to leave a circular patch of dirt that was perfect for putting down a pentagram. Jesse nodded with approval. "This's it."

Angela hugged herself. "This is wrong. How do you know we weren't followed? Amélie could've heard us leave."

McCree raised his eyebrows and smirked. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you was hopin' she did."

By the sour look on her face, he guessed there was some merit in what he'd said.

He huffed and started searching for something to carve the pentagram into the mud. He didn't figure he needed anything special -- the hellspawn probably already knew he wanted them to manifest, but were being stubborn. That, or they were snickering at his formalities. Probably both.

He found a suitable stick and brought it back to the clearing.

"Tell me about the demoness," Angela said, watching him draw the taboo symbol.

Initially, he was confused at her sudden curiosity -- but then he realized she wanted to be prepared for whatever she was about to see.  _Good foresight, I reckon._  "She's...a forward one," he said hesitantly, trying to find a proper way to put it. "Kinda brash. Likes to have fun."

"Physically."

"Oh. Right. Well...y'know how a centaur looks?"

Angela wrinkled her nose.

Jesse chuckled. "Okay, think of that, but on a...like a...a crab's body. With insect wings. But, uh, made of volcanic rock." He tossed the stick away, satisfied with his shaky work. He knew the hellspawn were watching him, invisibly snickering at his expense, but he could think of no other way to bring them out.

"Repulsive," Angela eventually commented, face pinched in disgust as she shifted uncomfortably.

Jesse shrugged. "The girl part's pretty cute, though. Just mind the teeth."

He took off the bag he'd been carrying, reaching in to retrieve the candles. It was hard to sneak them past Amélie, but he'd gotten lucky enough to hit a Walmart alone, telling her he needed simple hygiene products. Now that he thought of it, it would've been less suspicious if he'd just told her he was buying candles.

Jesse set them up on each point of the upside-down star, careful not to mess up the symbol itself. From his pocket, he withdrew his lighter, setting alight each wick one by one. Once he was done, he stood -- and as soon as he did, crackling erupted from the pentagram, the flames growing larger and hotter until they were taller than he was. He backpedaled away, nearly toppling Angela over in his hurry.

Black horns materialized, and, a millisecond after, the rest of the hellspawn followed. Jamie shook like a cat, his wings flapping once, twice, as if he'd just gotten out of a cramped space. Jesse furrowed his brow, marching up to the pentagram and dragging the imp out of it. "Ya didn't let me finish!"

"Watch the wings, ya filthy yank!" Jamie yelled, prancing away from the hunter and his companion. He pulled a wing to the side and cradled it. "They're  _sensitive_."

Angela cleared her throat. "Where are the others?" she asked, blatantly facing away from the imp. "Shouldn't they be coming?"

McCree shook his head. "I haven't even said nothin' to summon 'em. Jamie's just an asshole."

"That isn't what ya said before!" Jamie cawed, sitting down in the grass like a pouty child. When Jesse didn't respond, he continued, sticking his nose up, "Y'know, they  _know_  ya want 'em to come out. Ya could'a just  _called_  for 'em. All this --" he motioned toward the pentagram -- "is like usin' a mate's business card to ring 'em when they're standin' right next to ya."

Angela glanced at Jesse, expression unreadable. McCree narrowed his eyes at the hellspawn. "Well...why don't they come out, then? They're wastin' time."

Jamie shrugged. "Maybe they figure since ya went through all this, ya might as well go all-out. Didn't plan on me showin', though." He gave that typical sharp grin, causing Jesse's heart to thump just one beat faster. He scowled.

He turned to the empty field, angry at the fact there was nothing in it. "This's stupid. D.Va, Mako, come out so we can get this over with!"

The breeze hissed quietly in response. Jesse scanned the field, looking for the telltale dark shapes at the edges of his vision.

Mako materialized first. One second, the field was vacant -- the next, he stood, formidable, in the middle of it. Angela visibly shuddered.

"Okay, your turn, Destroyer," Jesse said, glancing away from the bleeding giant. When he looked back, Jamie was sprawled out across his friend's shoulders, looking bored.

"What's this for, anyway? You two were awfully taciturn about it." He pointed two fingers at the hunter and his medic.

"You'll see." Jesse's gaze swept the field again, just to catch a shape near the treeline. "There ya are! Come out here."

D.Va crawled into existence, taking her time in rising to her full height. She was pretty against the waxing moon -- until one noticed her bug body, of course.

Angela sucked in a breath. Jesse reached to her, letting her take his hand for support. Cool breath touched his ear, minty with coffee undertones. "We can't do this, Jesse! We're outnumbered, and you're the only one who can deal with them...  _Schiesse_ , we should've brought Amélie!"

Jesse squeezed her hand. "It's fine, doc, they're not gonna do anything. If they were, they would'a done it a long time ago."  _Unless they were_ _waitin_ _' for_ _somethin_ _' like this to happen,_ he thought secretly, his friend's paranoia needling under his skin.

 _...No, no, D.Va_   _would'a_   _offed me the day I met her if she wanted it done. And if the other two decide to turn on us, she'll protect us._  He paused.  _Not that I couldn't hold my own against 'em. Jamie can't even fight me._

"So...," the imp began, still perched on his demonic friend's shoulder, "what's all this about? You bring us out here just to say hi to your  _girlfriend_?" He spat out the word like venom, glaring at the blonde with a snarl that could make a lion cower.

Jesse's brows shot up. "What, you jealous?"

Angela elbowed him. "Don't."

They shared a heated look. In front of them, Jamie snickered deviously. "Better listen to her, Jess. She'll cast a spell on ya and boil ya in her cauldron!"

The doctor glared, stabbing through the creature with blue blades, but Jesse shook his head before she could say anything to goad him on.  _He's_ _lookin_ _' for a reaction,_  he wanted to say, but D.Va's voice behind him cut him short.

"You're not helping our case, Jamison," she sniffed. "You should probably shut your trap and let the adults talk."

Jamie blinked, and, for a split second, looked hurt. But it was replaced quickly by anger, his thick brows knitting. " _Adults_? I'm older than you, ya pretentious, charred lobster!"

D.Va was taken aback; so was Jesse. Mako grunted and whacked Jamie's leg, and, though his face was hidden, his distress was nearly tangible. Jamie caught his mistake -- it was visible in the way his tail stiffened and his eyes widened -- but he refused to correct himself, glaring stubbornly at the demoness.

The Destroyer's face became stony, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Age doesn't equal maturity. Remember who you're talking to."

"I'm hardly even aligned with your bullshit system anymore," Jamie growled, scrabbling so he was crouching on Mako's shoulder. "You ain't either, 'til it's convenient to ya!"

D.Va suddenly grinned, her serrated teeth deathly white, even against her pale features. "I can see right through you, Jamie. You're just mad because Jesse doesn't like you the way you like him."

Jamie's head jerked. For a splintering second, he was stunned into silence -- then, loudly, he managed to sneer, "Oh, too right. You got me good, archdemon!" He giggled mockingly, tail swishing.

"Archdemon?" Jesse echoed quietly, hardly concerned with what the Destroyer had said.  _Never heard of an_ _archdemon_ _before. Is that the proper name for a soldier demon?_

Angela tugged his arm. "Is this what was supposed to happen?" Her porcelain face betrayed concern. "Maybe we should go back while they're distracted..."

Jesse shook his head. "No, this shit's gettin' settled tonight. Hey, vermin!"

All the hellspawn stared over, their orange eyes glowing eerily in the night. Jesse crossed his arms, raising his chin as he regarded them, reminding them who was in charge. Jamie cracked a grin and glanced down at Mako.  _Get_ _a load of this bloke,_  he was probably thinking.

McCree narrowed his eyes. He'd been too lenient on the stupid pest -- in ways too embarrassing to recall -- and now it would be difficult to earn respect from him again. Well, that wouldn't be a problem -- he was going to regain control of the situation, even if he had to banish every last one of the entities he'd befriended.

"I brought y'all out here because --"

He stopped short. He couldn't simply tell them they needed to gain Angela's trust; Jamie would sneer and do his best burro impression, while Mako would...well...do nothing, at best. D.Va would erupt again and spur Jamie on, which would devolve into a dead imp, two angry demons, and an even angrier demon hunter. He had to be vague.

"-- it's time for you to be honest," he finished.

D.Va looked quizzical; Mako was expressionless, as always. Jamie continued grinning.

"Dunno how much you know about us," he said, "but honesty ain't exactly in our nature. Maybe we could spin ya a pretty tale of magic 'n' mayhem and let ya think that's the truth?"

D.Va growled, balling her fists. She was the only one out of the hellspawn that knew what the meeting was for, and, despite Jesse's curveball, could still sense the weight of the situation. "Can't you take anything seriously?"

"I prefer takin' it comically, to be frank."

"You're gonna tell me the truth, Jamie," Jesse interfered, pointing up at the imp. "You 'n' I's got problems, 'n' I'll tell ya that banishin' you ain't off the list of solutions." He tapped the book at his hip, ancient and comforting, more deadly than the revolver on his other side. He felt Angela hover closer -- the book belonged to her before it did Jesse, passed on to her by her mentor, Moira O'Deorain. She was nice enough to let him use it on his hunts.

Jamie sat back down on his big friend's shoulder. Jesse's threat hadn't gone unnoticed; the imp was visibly more complacent, though his tail-tip twitched angrily. "You're one hell of an emotional rollercoaster, ya know that, cowboy?"

Jesse didn't respond. Instead, he faced D.Va. "Now...I'm startin' to think a lot of what us humans know about hellspawn ain't exactly true," he started, letting his gaze land on Jamie for a split second. "You already proved to me you got emotions. You got ambitions. You wanna be different. But I don't know jackshit about you, when it comes down to it. I dunno where you come from, who made you, how old you are. And I dunno why you," he pointed at Jamie, who bristled, "chose  _me_  to follow around."

D.Va's black lips pursed. "Hm. Easy enough. What do you want to know first?"

Jesse glanced at Angela. She looked like she was being tortured.

"You should start from the beginning," he said, taking his gaze off his friend. "Where do ya come from? How were ya...made?"

"Well, the story's not the same for all of us," D.Va replied. "We're all made from...different things. Things that people do. People like you."

**×××**

The pungent smell of blood clogged her nose, the disgusting stench of spilled guts and the burn of gunpowder in the back of her throat. Smoke made her eyes water. Ringing filled her ears, but, behind it, she could hear the faint yells of men and the crack of machine weapons, scorching through bullets.

She gasped, her eyes widening yet seeing nothing. She writhed, confused, her body unnatural -- she didn't know how to use it, too many legs, none catching on the stone floor, scrabbling like a stunted spider. She felt like two beings fused together, arguing internally, trying to dictate how the other should use its body. She felt as though she'd made a horrible mistake in even existing.

Long minutes passed, spent trying to stand and being bombarded by flash-images of dead soldiers, bloodied nurses, and terrified children. Finally, she was capable of staying upright, her many legs trembling, too weak to hold her heavy body -- no,  _bodies --_ for long. She realized she was engulfed in heat, and, in a way, it was comforting. Natural.

Flickering orange light caught her eye, beckoning her forward. She unsteadily clambered to it, a massive toddler too big for her crib. She found an opening and looked out.

Atrocious monstrosities waited outside the opening. Some were small and gnarled, others were massive -- larger than she was, reaching a ceiling that was too dark to see. Other creatures crawled over their feet, unperturbed by the living megaliths around them. Fire turned the landscape red and orange, perched atop torches and in pools scattered across the red dirt. Trees with blackened leaves stood around the flames, dancing slightly with the heat.

She blinked. This felt...normal. She was supposed to be here.

She hesitantly came out, awkwardly bending so she could fit through the hole. Her lower body scraped the edges, rock on rock; a chill skittered up both her backs. As she touched the hot earth for the first time, all her spidery feet on its flat surface, she turned back -- only to find one of the megaliths straightening himself, pulling his hand back away from her. His skin was dark and his face was marked with white stripes, his great eyes closed as he let her go. Then he was gone, his head disappearing into the immense blackness high above.

A warm breeze gently goaded her; she caught the flash image of a beach. But that place was impossibly far away, impossibly long ago, and, she realized, wasn't her own memory at all.  _...Geuge nuguege soghangeoya?_

She looked down. Other creatures -- creatures like her, yet nothing similar to her -- gathered around, curiously eyeing their newest addition. They murmured amongst each other.

 _"Another_ _archdemon_ _,"_  they whispered, faces screwed with disdain.  _"Born of the Korean War. Wasn't looking forward to this. Another know-it-all...she already thinks she knows what's best for us...how we should act..."_

She blinked. She didn't even know her name yet, and already there were doubters of what she was going to do? _Geochin_ _gunjung_ _..._

At least she knew  _what_  she was now, if not who. That would probably make things easier.

She started walking forward, careful not to step on any of the smaller creatures around her, only to be stopped by a booming growl from the heavens.

 _"_ _Archdemon_ _."_ A sadistic laugh echoed across the fiery plains.  _"We have another_ _archdemon_ _, maggots! Aren't you all excited?"_

She grimaced. There was a sour note in that voice, a narcissistic negativity that didn't settle right in her ears. She swallowed and searched the void above.

_"Seems to be a lot of them lately. Wonder why the mortals are_ _bein_ _' so bloodthirsty, eh? Whatever. More wars means more just like her._ _Meanin_ _' a better society down here to keep the rest of you little proles in --"_

**×××**

"Wait," Jesse interrupted, "ya mean to tell me you're  _made_  by what us humans do?"

D.Va knitted her brows. "Well, duh! Will you let me finish?"

"So if archdemons are made from war, what about them two?" He pointed to Mako and Jamie.

"Well, I  _was_  a low-tier," Jamie spat, begrudging. "We're made by the basic sins, 'cept for lust. Y'know, gluttony, greed, wrath, yadda yadda."

McCree ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do with that information. "S-sorry. I just --"

"Sh!"

**×××**

_"-- check. You_ _ought'a_ _be thankful, y'know."_

Ruddy dust swirled in the wind.

 _"Ah, well. Back to your duties, lowbrows. As for you,"_  the voice got closer, as though the speaker had somehow lowered to her height and was speaking privately to her,  _"your name is D.Va the Destroyer. That's D, period, V, A. Shorten it however ya like. Make it your own. Your job is to keep the rest of these mongrels from getting too...up-in-arms. Too disruptive. You're an_ _archdemon_   _\-- you got the memories of every soldier in the war you were just born from. Remember police officers?"_

She did. People in uniforms entered her mind's eye, arresting others for unlawful acts. For making trouble. For disrupting the peace.

_"That's basically what you're gonna be doing. Find other_ _archdemons_ _. They'll help ya out. I'll even show ya the way."_

A path lit before her, reeking of sulfur and burning bright yellow. She turned to where she last heard the voice. "Why...why am I here?"

More disembodied laughter.  _"That's a kicker. No one here can answer that, dearest. Maybe you'll be the one to find out for us?"_

**×××**

"Who was it that was speaking to you?" Angela blurted, ensuring D.Va's story was over before she spoke. Her eyes were wide like a child's, totally entranced by what she'd heard. Jesse couldn't blame her.

The Destroyer twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. "God. Some of you humans act like you know them personally, but you've never truly met them. They always stay in Hell, and want their archdemons to, as well. But...they aren't very nice. Or fair. They consider the mid-tiers and lower to be disposable."

"So  _now_  you're against the one up top?" Jamie spat, leaning against Mako's head. "What gave ya that notion, darl? I thought you were nice and cozy with your feasts and riches! Y'know, the ones ya were  _born_  with?"

"I've changed my mind," the demoness growled, luminous eyes flashing. "Despite what you think, Jamie, archdemons are oppressed, too. We can't ever see the Overworld. The feasts are used to distract us. So are the succubi, and the parties, and the humiliation of hellspawn like you! What would happen if all of God's loyal pets would see this?" She swung her arms to indicate the world around her, something she'd been working so long to discover. "We'd never stay down there! They couldn't control the masses anymore! Their society would be ruined forever!"

Jamie blinked, slack-jawed. Then he grinned, a villainous smile that spread across his face insidiously. "Sounds pretty good to me. Tryin' to make order outta a bunch of chaos creeps was a rather pea-brained idea in the first place."

"Well, we  _do_  need some kind of control," D.Va replied, earning a derisive snarl from the imp. She waved him off. "Ugh, not like I'd expect  _you_  to get it! All you need to know is that 'the one up top,' as you call them, isn't doing it right. And that needs to change."

Angela's soft whisper came to him again. "Should we say something?" She'd lost the wanderlust the demoness had given her, now returning to her typical worried state.

Jesse shook his head. "I'm tryn' to figure out what the hell they're on about. Didn't know they had a  _society_  down there."

A hot breeze hit the side of his face. When he looked over, Jamie leaned against him, elbow on his shoulder. "Oh, yeah, hunter, we got a society, all right. Not one you'd wanna be apart of, either."

McCree's brows furrowed, wearing a frown that seemed to get more severe the more he used it. On his other side, he felt Angela let go of his hand, taking a step back to allow space between herself and the imp.

"What's it like?" he asked, meeting Jamie's bright gaze.

His eyes widened, just slightly. "Oh, so now you're all chummy again? Can't keep hoppin' the fence all the time, love! I'm confused enough about how ya feel as it is."

All eyes landed on him at once. Jesse bit the inside of his cheek, choosing not to even acknowledge what was just said. "Just answer the question, Jamie."

The hellspawn shrugged, studying his claws. "Hm. I'll just grill ya about it later."

**×××**

"But that's not fair!"

_"Ya think I care about what's fair, underling?"_

Jamie snarled, his mouth working faster than his common sense. "Ya fuckin' should! What kinda sovereign are you? A mighty shitty one, that's what!"

There was a still moment of silence, the world going cold around him. A sharp, stabbing dread plummeted down his core, a god-fearing tremor that screamed at him to go hide and never let himself be seen again. But their eye could find him anywhere, saw everything he did the moment he did it. That was why he was here now, in this dark hole full of boiling blood, having to atone for stealing hardly an iota of the archdemons' bottomless treasure.

_"Imp."_

"What?" Jamie backed against the wall, invisible in the dark, gnarled and slimy under his hands. "Y-ya can't do that to me! I -- I --"

_"You're an imp. A nameless, useless speck. Disposable."_

He felt lightheaded. "Wh-what about Mako?"

_"The archdemon that helped ya? That sad sack is gonna have to settle for mediocrity. Mid-tier for him. Too bad. He was one of my best. But he'll still have a use. Unlike you."_

Jamie covered his face with his hands. How was he going to be able to live as an  _imp_? No powers, no respect, a lowly mutt among hellspawn! A waste of space and air!

He remembered the other imps he'd had the displeasure of looking at. He could tell from their movements, their huddled shapes. He could smell it on them. The shame. He'd mocked them just as anyone else had -- derived pleasure from it, despite being a low-tier -- and yet here he was, doomed to join their ranks of hatred and shadows.

"There's...there's gotta be a way..."

_"A way for what, imp? To banish yourself to the Nether?"_

"No," Jamie choked out, on the verge of tears, "to come back! I can't stay this way forever! I can't!" His voice broke, devolving into a pitiful whimper.

They snickered, a harsh taunt.  _"And who says? You? Give up, mite. There's nothing you can do, ever. Ya can't change who you are."_

**×××**

Jamie wouldn't look at him. Jesse leaned forward to try and catch his eye, but he was evasive; for once, he pulled away from the hunter first, melting down into the tiny shadows in the grass. Jesse tried to track his movements, but once he was gone, he was gone.

That is, until he reappeared on Mako's shoulders, smiling as mischievously as ever.

"You okay?" Jesse asked, resisting the urge to approach them both.

Jamie shrugged. "I'm right as rain, mate. It's just...a bit of a sore subject, y'know." His smile faltered, but never fell, despite how badly it wanted to. Somehow, it made him seem even sadder.

Jesse's heart wrenched. But he said nothing more, afraid of Angela's reaction. He was thankful to hear D.Va pick up where Jamie left off.

"And that's why there needs to be a change! There's no commerce, the masses are starving -- and even if they don't die, they're stuck being tortured forever by sickness, and hunger, and thirst. What's the point of being immortal if it's spent wanting to die?" She drew her fingers through her hair, brushing it again and again. "I'm...sorry, if I was ever mean to you, Jamie. I didn't know it was wrong."

Jamie wanted to say something scathing; Jesse could see it in his face. Instead, he sighed, resigning himself to, hopefully, forgiveness. "It's...well, it's not  _okay_ , but at least you're willin' to change. Right?"

Dejectedly, D.Va nodded. She wasn't happy with the imp's answer, but she understood his hesitation.

Jesse glanced at the three hellspawn in the field. The moon turned Mako blue, D.Va glowed in the darkness, and Jamie resembled a gargoyle, perched on the tinted marble that made Mako. If he were to meet himself three weeks ago, if he were to tell that person that he was going to be friends with a rebellious group of monsters, he would've called him a drunken lunatic. But now he was glad that he did. Their world needed a change, and he was going to help them -- with or without Angela's approval.

"So what do ya suggest we do?" he asked the demoness, still childishly playing with her hair.

She smiled, letting go of the braid she'd made. "I'm glad you asked! First, we need more hellspawn on our side. Three doesn't make much of an uprising." She motioned to the other two for emphasis.

Jesse nodded, holding his chin. "You're gonna talk to the demon we're huntin' tomorrow."

"Yeah, exactly!" D.Va clasped her hands. "I don't know who they are, but I'm sure they'll listen to reason -- especially when they see that you don't want to hurt them." She pointed to the book at his side. "You might not want to bring that with you. It's threatening."

"You got a point. Remind me." He glanced at Angela. "You wanna help?"

The doctor took in a breath, unable to maintain eye contact. "I'm...still skeptical, Jesse. Give me some time to think about it." She hugged herself, pallid, but softer than she was on her way to the clearing. Hearing the hellspawn's backstories must have disarmed her, at least somewhat. He was glad.

"It's okay, Dr. Ziegler," D.Va said, taking a few tiny steps forward. "You want a ride back to the hotel?"

Jesse nudged her. Angela bit her lip. "C'mon," he urged. "It'll be fun."

"Once in a lifetime offer!" D.Va showed off her pearly shark teeth, motioning like a ringmaster to her own back.

Angela huffed, closing her eyes. "Fine. I...suppose. As long as you'll be there." She looked up at Jesse, blue eyes smoldering in a way that told him he'd be hearing about it later. He grinned.

He gave the medic a leg-up onto the demoness's back, watching as she flinched and settled into a comfortable spot between her wings. As Jesse grabbed her hand to pull himself up, clawed hands grabbed him under the arms and hefted him upward.

"Jesse!" Angela yelled, watching as Jamie hoisted him up beside him on Mako's shoulder. "Put him down! Now!" She made a move to stand on the Destroyer's back, but Mako lumbered off before she could get to her feet, softly chortling.

Jamie giggled, keeping his arm tight around Jesse's shoulders. "You're ridin' with us! No snotty doctors allowed!"

Jesse snorted, staring back at Angela as she urged D.Va to chase after the escaping thieves. "She's gonna beat your ass!" he exclaimed, laughing. He turned his head to face the hellspawn again, only to touch noses with him.

"You'll protect me, won't ya?" he asked quietly, clinging to his neck with a smarmy, yet naive grin.

Jesse flushed, pulling his hat down further and finding something very interesting to stare at in the woods. "Er, yeah. I'll make sure she don't come after ya." He crossed his arms, protecting himself from...whatever Jamie was trying to pull.

The imp rested his chin on his shoulder, nearly purring. "Ain't you a doll."

Below them, Mako groaned with distaste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (google) translations:  
> schiesse = shit  
> geuge nuguege soghangeoya?/그게 누구에게 속한거야? = who does it belong to?  
> geochin gunjung/거친 군중 = tough crowd


End file.
